


Don't look at this it's messy

by notsafefortheworld



Category: Undertale
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-09
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-08-20 10:33:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 18
Words: 43,243
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8245883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/notsafefortheworld/pseuds/notsafefortheworld
Summary: Trying to get a few things in order





	1. Chapter 1

Grillby signs something at you, but you can't see well enough to tell what it is. He sighs silently, comes closer, crouching in front of you, and speaks instead of signing.  
_Are you alright?_ You aren't really sure - you probably are - but if you aren't, that isn't his problem, it's yours. It wouldn't be fair to mke someone else take care of you! Even if you would kind of like to talk with someone nice. You blink a few times, nod.  
_Yes, of course!_ Even to yourself it sounds like you're lying, and you don't expect him to buy it. He doesn't seem to.  
_Why are you in the snow?_ You consider the best way to answer that.  
_I just got here. I haven't had time to find somewhere that isn't the snow yet!_ Your tone is still cheery, but it also still sounds a little forced. He flickers in consideration. After a second or two, he holds out a hand.  
_Would you like to come with me?_ His tone is calm and reasuring, as usual. You shake your head, eyes wide.  
_Oh, no! I'm sure you have..something you have to do, and I wouldn't want to get in the way!_ Utterly true. He has to offer several more times before you finally accept, mildly uncertain, and take his hand. He stands, and of course is much taller than you. You feel like a child looking up at him to speak and holding his hand, but you don't want to let go of his hand, because it feels nice and you wouldn't know what to do with your hand if you weren't. Your magic responds to being near another monster, as well as your conflicting emotions. Luckily, he speaks first.  
_You're part elemental?_ He asks in a manner that makes it clear you don't have to answer, if you don't want to. You rather appreciate that, and you don't mind telling him what you are, anyway.  
_Storm_ , you inform him concisely.  
_From a long, long time ago...It was certainly a surprise when the barrier fell._  His head tilts a little bit in question.  
_How do you know?_ Unlike when most people ask questions, he doesn't sound doubtful. It really is just a question.  
There's a reason you're so fond of your uncle. (Besides just that he's your uncle, which is still pretty awesome.) You shrug honestly.  
_Don't really know. I just kind of...._ know _some things._  You shuffle your shoulders further to indicate that you aren't really sure _why_ it happens. He flickers a little bit, consideringly. A breeze blows by - it's winter, but the wind doesn't cut; it's a rounded, distracted kind of breeze, neither interested in chilling people to the bone nor conversation. It rolls along to the next place, and you watch it go with some interest as he unlocks the front of a building. You turn your head back to him, blinking.  
_Watching the wind?_ He sounds curious. You chirp agreement silently.  
_They didn't want to talk. Very distracted. Hardly even formed as a person..._  You comment, then clap your hand over your mouth, eyes wide.  
_Um, just disregard that, please_. His head turns to watch you, expression inscrutible.  
_Why?_ You drop his hand, sticking yours in your pocket, and scuff at the snow with your feet, looking down. Your heart is racing a little because just because _you_ see the world one way, it does not mean everyone else does! Just because he's another elemental doesn't mean he shares your cockamamey views! You scuff your foot some more, fists clenched inside your pockets. You were having a nice talk! Sans probably wouldn't even have attacked you, because you were talking with Grillby and Grillby is a good judge of character! You hear the door open and your head comes up in surprise.  
_Please, come inside._ His voice is polite. You war with yourself, swallow.  
_I really probably should be getting going..._  you hold your elbow.  
_I don't bite_. He opens his mouth, which is white-hot on the inside. Your eyes widen exponentially before you laugh a little, tension broken somewhat. You follow him inside as you speak.  
_I'm glad! That would probably kill me! I mean, I can go in lava, but I have to be ready to do that before I actually_ do _.._.  
...Oops. He flickers at that. (It probably wouldn't kill you, though. Hurt a lot and burn you to the bone, probably. Depending on how hard he bit, of course. And, obviously, intent.) You exhale a bit, trying to calm yourself with the familiarity of the wooden...everything. Funny a guy made of fire wood have so much wood around him. And also work with alcohol. You shuffle your fingers together, The door closes behind him, and you realize you're in the way.  
_O-oh! S-sorry_. His flames shift in an 'it's alright' sort of...manner, that's rather hard to describe beyond being a shifting, as you move to the side. You follow him to the counter, fingers twisting. You fall back on what you know.  
_Did you need help?_ You ask, voice small and childish. He pauses from where he's putting on an apron to look at you, considering quickly, before crooking a finger. Head tilted, you obediantly come over, stopping beside the counter. He pulls something out of the...cabinet? Closet?- before moving unstartlingly to slip it over your head. It's an apron. You blink, look up at him with stars (perhaps not literally) in your eyes. You get to help!  
_You should still be in striped shirts,_ he tells you. A buried undertone of worry laces through, though it's hidden a bit under the thickness of his voice. You don't know why it's like that - is he holding back some emotion? You feel an internal wave of same, of _you're not good enough_.  
_I'm eighteen_ , you tell him. He shakes his head.  
_That's not how monsters age._ He puts a hand on the top of your head. You just stare at him, wide-eyed. His voice is a little less choked.  
_Come. You can help me prepare the food_. You follow him into the 'fire exit' - the fire parts so you can go through, and you have to remind yourself not to be tense just because there's someone behind you. You know this person.  
_I'm kind of blind,_ you tell him. This gives him pause.  
_How?_ Even the word flickers, and he sounds a little distant. You shrug.  
_Not sure. I think the sudden influx of magic jacked up my vision? My eyes still work fine...I just can't see with them. I see a different way now, but it's kind of hard to describe._ He sort of half-crouches to put his hands on your shoulders and look you in the face. Your face is wrinkled, and you watch him questioningly.  
_Follow my finger_ , he tells you. You try. You really do. But of course, as soon as he tells you to, even what you've gathered of the blurry sort-of vision cuts out, and you let out a noise of frustration, face flushing. You can't even see his face now. Your eye flashes, and you're getting overheated. His voice is soft.  
_My apologies, child. I didn't mean to overwhelm you._ You don't like being so _useless_ ; you have to fight the tears that want to gather in your eyes as you 'stare' at the floor.  
_It doesn't work if I think about it. If I think about it, it cuts out and then I'm_ really _blind, only I still mostly don't bump into things._ Your chin is tucked down, and your hands are fists, digging into themselves. Your breath hitches and that upsets you more. It's a vicious cycle.  
_....Who taught you to use magic?_ You blink, 'looking' up in surprise. You can't see right now, but you can still perform the social cues.  
_No one. I taught myself. I can do lots! I can do purple, and if I concentrate I can do indigo, but it's easier to just move people if I have to move them, than keep them weighed down. And I can do green, but it's harder sometimes than others, and yellow is weird because it's hard to tell if I'm doing it right? Because that's also what white ones are like, kind of, and sometimes I can do orange and blue, and I'm forgetting one, I think_. Your forehead wrinkles.  
He stares outright, his own forehead wrinkled.  
_The only other magic is red, and that's Determination_ , he says carefully. You blink.  
_Oh! Yes, I can do that one, too. It's just..._ You snap your fingers, thinking.  
_You move time. That's what that one does. But it only goes backwards, not forwards. Frisk can do that one, too_. You tell him. Then clamp your mouth shut and cover it.  
_But I'm not supposed to know about them!_  
My child, what aren't you telling me? You rewind.  
... _Because that's what the white ones are like, kind of, and sometimes I can do orange and blue._ You don't mention red.  
He blinks. _Oh, good. I can see a bit again_. You tilt your head.  
_What?_ He shakes his head.  
_Humans aren't supposed to be able to use magic,_  he tells you. You tilt your head the other way, eyes narrowing a little almost pityingly.  
_But I'm part monster! I'm not_ just _a human._ You tell him. His brow remains crinkled. You sigh, before trying to think of a way to show him. You don't want to affect him directly, because that would be rude.  
Oh, you could just use magic on yourself! You lift yourself, only a few feet, before lowering.  
He blinks at you.  
_How?_ You tilt your head, one eye squinched.  
_Do you ask a bird how they fly?_ You're feeling less childlike. You're shifting again, apparently. You huff.  
_Anyway. Don't you have to do morning-restaurant-things?_ You 'look' back up at him and blink, faux-innocent. He exhales, standing properly, before gesturing for you to continue.  
_Striped shirts indeed...._  You murmur to yourself, a mildly offended snort and flicker at the end. He's silent, and it makes you worry, because it isn't the easy kind of silence you're used to with Grillby. He moves quickly and efficiently, and you can't help but admire the expertise. He's making something eggish. You fall back, unsure what to do. Does he want help? Are you even _capable_ of helping?  
You aren't supposed to know his name.  
_Mister?_ Great, now you're back to sounding like a kid. Well, it's sounding like a kid or sounding like a stuck-up asshole, so you'll go with kid. He startles a little, turning back to you. This time, it's his voice that's forcedly cheerful.  
_Oh! My apologies. I forgot I had company..._  The falsely bright ton makes your gut twist a little. You swallow, head ducking.  
... _If you wouldn't mind, the dishes?_ Your head comes back up. His tone is very careful.  
_It was rather busy last night, and I'm afraid some of them required soaking_. You blink. Yes, dishes you can probably manage not to fuck up monumentally. Hopefully. A smile appears on your features, and you make your way to the sink. Of course, your vision is skipping out again. But, you can do this! You prep your hands so that the hot water won't affect them (at least as much) because you're not going to be able to tell the temperature very well, and turn on what you hope is the hot water tap. Instead, literal fire comes out of the faucet and you squeak and jump back.  
_Oh, Asena!_ He says it the same way most monsters say 'Asgore' - with alarm. He rushes over, eggs apparently forgotten, and quickly takes your hands.  
_Are you burned?_ He asks grimly, concern lacing his tone. You shake your head.  
_I don't think so. I probably wouldn't be able to tell, but I didn't have my hands under the faucet, anyway._ His head tilts, slowly.  
_....Wouldn't be able to tell?_ You shrug. He eyes you for a few seconds before apparently deciding to move on.   
_Why do you use fire in your sink? Why don't you use cleaning magic?_ You ask.  Woshua uses cleaning magic. Blue does too, sometimes. His expression is still concerned.  
_Your eggs are going to burn, I think_. He starts a little, releases your hands, and moves seamlessly back over to the stove, turning it off.  
_Thank you_ , he says somewhat wryly.  
_And, as to your other question, most monsters have certain abilities. It's unusual for a monster to have a very wide skillset, as...you seem to._ You aren't sure if he's skeptical that you aren't telling the truth (being mistaken, or lying, or what have you) or it's something else, but you huff out a little breath.  
_I can do cleaning magic, sometimes. It's useful when there isn't a shower nearby._ You turn back to the sink - the fire was still running, and you reach carefully to turn the tap off. You focus for a few seconds. Cleaning magic requires a prety _specific_ mindset. Satisfied, you hold the partially-cleaned pan up to show him, before focusing on another spot on it. The crusted-on stuff flakes off and disappears as you do so. He blinks (he does that a lot, you notice), just staring for a few seconds. You pause, shuffle your feet. Drat.  
_Sorry. I'm being a show-off, aren't I?_ You put the dish back in the sink. He crackles slightly.  
_Not at all. It is natural to wish to 'show off' one's skills, especially when others may not appreciate them_. 'Other's not including himself, obviously, by his tone. It's almost....fond? You blink, head coming up. Smile a little.  
_Anyway, I'll do these. I think I've held you up enough. Sorry.._. Your smile is kind of tight. He flickers with some emotion you can't identify, before holding up a finger and heading back to the fire exit. Or, you suppose, entrance, from this side.  
Your head tilts, and you clean your hands of grease as you wait. He returns a few seconds later, something you can't identify in his hands. He takes your hand, sliding something onto your wrist.  
_Here. This will allow you to use the fire-access only entry_. You blink at him.  
_Thank...you?_ You aren't sure whether to be grateful? Mostly you're confused. He crackles in what migh be slight amusement, letting go of your arm.  
_That way, you'll be able to go through on your own. You may stay here and do the dishes if you like, or accompany me up front. Customers will be arriving soon, and I wouldn't like to have them roaming the place..._  It sounds like there's a story behind that one, and you put a hand up to your mouth to stifly a laugh, eyes crinkled. You nod with determination, and he nods in return. You think you see something warm in his expression, before he stands (wow, you're short. Or he's tall, you guess.) and returns to the front. You exhale to yourself, thinking. Dishes! You will do all the dishes!  
Which is actually not very many dishes. You're glad, because you want to do all of them, but you also don't have too much practice with cleaning magic (it's kind of hard) and you _don't_ want to have to tell him you couldn't do all of them. You hear someone come through the door -it isn't Grillby- and then stop, apparently surprised.  
"Huh. I didn't know Grillbz hired somebody else! Am I getting replaced?" Their voice is playful. They're a monster, you're pretty sure, but you can't tell what kind or even their gender - though you're leaning toward female. You turn your head to them to be polite. You aren't really sure how to respond.  
_No,_ you say simply. After a moment their brow furrows.  
"Are you...ignoring me?" Your own brow furrows, and you shake your head. They look relieved, but scratch their own.  
_Can you not...hear me?_ Oh! Maybe...  
_Can you hear me now?_ Their face conveys shock. You nod satisfaction. You were on the wrong frequency - it worked with Grillbz, but this is a more all-purpose one. Humans ight not be able to hear it, but most monsters should.  
"How are you doing that?!" They question somewhat incredulously. You shrug.  
_I don't want to be rude, but I'm supposed to do the dishes and cleaning magic is hard. Is it okay if we talk later?_  
"O-oh! Uh, sure. Sorry, sweets. Didn't mean to distract you from your job." Chagrin, confusion. You just shrug, level a hopefully friendly semi-smile at them, and turn back to your task.  
Right. Cleaning.  
Dishes.  
Where the hell did the pot go? Someone else comes in, and you resist the urge to sigh in frustration at the interruption. They speak silently, too, but you can't hear their words, only that they're talking. Monster-whispering?  
"O-oh! This is Alex. I never got your name? I'm Jess." Very odd names for monsters. You think.   
_Other._ You tell them, moving your hands until you bump into something. _Ah, there....something is._  
Other? What kind of a name is that? A  snobby, pretentious kind of voice.  
_It's_ my _name_ , you say defensively.  
_What kind of a name is 'Alex' for a monster?_  You cross your arms. The other person moves between the two of you.  
"N-now...let's just...Alex, leave them alone," they say in exasperation.  
"They haven't even been here five minutes and you're trying to pick a fight with them. Stop being a dick." You blink, then clap a hand over your mouth as you laugh heartiy, slipping down the sink a little. Your laugh tinkles loudly in the pristine kitchen. It breaks down into giggles as you shake. Alex snorts and moves to do something.  
"You have a pretty laugh," Jess tells you. You blink, only a little embarrassed.  
_Thank you..._ You turn back to the dishes. Hopefully you can actually get them done now... You successfully locate a dish and clean it. Suddenly a voice over your shoulder startles you.  
_You're doing it wrong!_ You drop the dish with an exclamation of surprise, immediately flattening yourself against the counter. Your magic slides them backward automatically as you grip the sink, focusing on your breathing, head down.  
" _Alex!!_ " The vexed tone isn't meant for you, isn't meant for you, isn't meant for you...  
_They used magic on me!!_ Disbelieving.  
"Well, you shouldn't have pressed right up against them, then! That's _harrassment!_ Are you _trying_ to get us fired?!" A noise of disgruntlement from Alex. Your breathing is mostly calm. You release the counter.  
You've left imprints of your hands in the material, and you wince. Great. Apparently you make a noise, because Alex looks over.  
_Oh, look, they damaged the counter, too_. Head down and fists clenched, you breathe again. _Breathe_. Don't get mad. Don't get upset. Just ignore them.  
You go back to the dishes. The dishes are what you can control. Maybe you can fix the counter afterwards. You'll apologize to Grillby either way, of course, but -  
"Alex!!" They're touching the back of your head, and this time when your magic moves them it's more like a controlled explosion, only you don't control it because it's a _reaction_ and they fly across the kitchen, slam into the wall. You stand with your hands over your mouth. _Oh no oh no oh no oh no_  they groan, moving a little.  
_Crazy bitch_. Grillby bursts through the door. He looks from you to Alex to Jess. Your shoulders are hunched. _I just threw someone because they got in my personal space_ , you think miserably. _There's no way Grillbz is gonna_ -  
_What did he do_ , Grillby asks calmly. Jess twists their hands.  
"Um, well, you see-" He levels a look at them, and they stop, sighing and hands dropping.  
"He came up behind them, twice. The first time they just pushed him back, really gently. This time..." You wince, hunching in on yourself further.  
_....I see._ You're going to get kicked out. You totally deserve it. You don't even _deserve_ his regards. You swallow.  
_I-I'll....leave. S-sorry..._ Shoulders still drawn in, you move to pass by meekly, get out before you ruin _more_ things. A hand on your shoulder stops you. Of course. He'll want the bracelet back. You turn, wondering if he wants you to give it back before you go through -  
_Why don't you come up in the front?_ You wince, swallow. He'll probably want to have a talk, lecture you on getting your magic in control. You know you deserve it, but a childish part of you says you don't, that it's not your _fault_ , that you should be able to protect yourself and that's what you did, even if it was a knee-jerk reaction.  
You swallow again, nod because you're s'posed to answer people when they talk to you, go through the fire exit. It's a weird feeling, passing through magic that's scanning you. It almost feels like a security gate. (You guess it kind of is.) You work the bracelet off your arm, offer it to him after he's behind the counter and you're out of the way. His expression conveys perplexity.  
... _Keep it._ Swallow again.  
_I don't understand. I fucked up_. Hepicks up a glass and starts polishing it, his glasses flashing.  
_You did not_. Blink.  
... _Come again?_ He puts down the glass with a sigh. You transition to the other 'frequency'. It's more comfortable than this one.  
_I pushed him._ Into a wall _. I could have_ hurt _him._ That's what upsets you the most. His head shakes.  
_No. You only intended to remove him from your person. You did so, albeit with some vehemence. The first time, it's a warning. The second, he faced a consequence. Another is that I will be docking his pay._ You feel like that argument is missing something, but don't know what.  
_I dented the counter._ You tell him, quietly dreading. He blinks in surprise.  
_...he startled you that much?_ You swallow again, looking down.  
_I've had, uh....interesting experiences...._ You don't want him to look at you with pity or shit like that, but he deserves an explanation as to why you ruined his counter. And you don't want him to think the guy tried to attack you, or something. He flickers in consideration.  
_It's easy enough to fix. You could most likely do it, actually. Would you like to try?_ You don't really want to be near Alex. It must show on your face.  
_...Ah. I understand. Another time, then._ The door jingles, and someone walks in. Obviously.  
You're starting to fade, a little. You need to go to bed, anyway. You'll come back tomorrow. You turn to Grillbz, nervous.  
_I gotta go. I'll be back._ You vanish in a flash.  
You'll come back in a few seconds, but it'll be tomorrow, so it'll work out.  
______  
You're back. Of course, Grillby (and probably a few other people) are looking at you oddly, because to them you just disappeared and reappeared (likely in different clothes; you don't care enough to check. Actually, you do.  
....Where did you _get_ this dress? It's fucking adorable! You don't even own anything like this! But, you're _pretty_ sure you're in your own body? So.)  
You blink, wave almost shyly.  
"Hi. Said I'd be back." Your smile is tentative. Grillby pushes his glasses up.  
_Alright._ And that's that. You relax, lips up in a small, happy little smile. Somehow, you ended up behind the bar. You look around, curiously; it's different from back here.  
"scotch on the rocks, grillbz." You frown.  
"Isn't it a little early to be drinking?" Woops. You turn to Grillby apologetically. This _is_ his livelihood, after all. He gives Sans an inscrutible look. His tone is somewhat defeated.  
"heh. hirin' a bit young, grillbz?" You tsk at him, crossing your arms.  
"You can't get drunk before _noon!_ There's _food!_ Try some of that." His eyelights turn to you, grin fixed in surprise as he blinks. You tap your foot nervously.  
"Well?" He stares for a few more seconds before something like relief crosses his expression. He mumbles something to himself that you don't catch, before returning to his automatic grin, though it's pretty small.  
"fine, kid." He sounds amused, and still kind of relieved. You wonder why.  
"the usual, then." You turn to Grillby, shifting your shoulders and with a questioning, apologetic expression. You speak so only he can hear.  
_Was that okay? I know it's your livelihood, but..._  A hand comes to rest on your shoulder.  
_I don't promote intentional self-destruction._ It's all that needs to be said. Your shoulders relax. He bends to take something from under the counter, and you have a theory about _what_. He sets it in front of Sans before another customer calls him away. He glances over to make sure you're alright, but you're watching Sans with a small amount of fascination as he unscrews the cap to peel off the seal. Your brow is furrowed. He takes a swig, watching you. You meet his eyes with amusement.  
"I'm more of a vinegar person, myself." His grin falters before he laughs, somewhat hearty.  
"ain't you a bit young, though? t' be workin here?" Your head tilts.  
"'M not. Just....visiting." You blink at each other, before he sets the bottle down and extends a hand. You narrow your eyes, and he retracts it a fraction.  
"what?" You grab his hand by the back and turn it over, peeling the whoopie cushion off triumphantly.  
"Aha!" You wave it at him, grinning, then chortle. He looks surprised, before snorting. You put it down on the counter before sticking your hand in his, giving a hopefullly-the-right-strength shake.  
"Other. You?" You blink at him, innocently. He blinks back, surprised.  
"sans. i'd ask what kind of a name that is, but..." You blink slowly, like a cat.  
"You don't have a _legbone_ to stand on." Maybe some jokes will cheer him up? He leans in slowly, and you swallow and lean back out of habit. You don't like people in your personal space, unless you know their intentions. His eyesockets are narrowed.  
" _tibia_ honest, i'm glad that bad joke didn't give me a _femur_. i'd _hamate_ to have to leave a fellow pun lover _trap_ ezoid-ed." Your eyes narrow. It takes you a few moments to come up with a good response.  
"I guess I'll have to put some _olecranon_ grease into it, then. I wouldn't like to be _coccyx_. _Ulna_ tell you how rusty I am with jokes; I'm not exactly a _bone-fied_ comedian." You looked _all_ of those up, in the other world.  
"you're a pretty _clavicle_  (clever) girl. _occipital_ you're in _frontal_ of a pun-master." You huff at him.  
"Guess you should know a _skele-ton_ of _humerus skele-puns_ , then. I s'pose I won't have much luck _ribbing_ you. Some things are _sacral,_ though; to _patella_ you the truth, I'm not a girl." His eyes widen at you keeping up with him. Pausing has it's benefits. His eyes narrow.  
"you wouldn't be telling a _fibula_ , would you?" You shake your head.  
"Nah. Though, my jokes are probably going to be pretty _cuniform_ , 'cause I've about run out." A tap on your shoulder; Grillby.   
_Yes?_  
_Are you hungry?_ You shake your head.  
_I'm good, but thank you._ You're about to eat elsewhere, actually. And you're _starving_. As if to directly contradict you, your stomach growls. You look down at it, annoyed. Grilly seems as though he's about to say something before Sans cuts in.  
"hey, grillbz. double order 'a burg?" He sighs, pushing up his glasses and heading to the kitchen.  
"geez, kid. you gotta eat, unless you wanna be just _skin an bones_ ," he says. (He sounds kind of worried, like he thinks you _don't_ eat enough. Doesn't he see your pudge? You have pudge! People who don't eat enough usually don't have pudge, right?) You really are rather hungry, and shrug nonchalantly, not really having a response to that. Grillby reappears a few seconds later with two hamburgers, which he places in front of Sans. He looks like he's about to speak with you, but another customer calls him away. He spritzes a little, heading off that way.  
"heh. dig in, kid." You eye him suspiciously.  
"Why? I can get food elsewhere." Not a lie. Even if these burgers smell really, really good. He shrugs.  
"you wouldn't want it to go to waste, would you?" You hesitate, trying to tell if he's playing you. He doesn't touch either, hands still in his pockets. You exhale, resigned.  
"No..." He grins a little.  
"then eat. ketchup?" Of course you're going to have ketchup on a burger! You nod, and he slides the plate over before handing you a bottle. You open the cap, turn it upside down over the burg (after taking the top bun off, of course!) and squeeze. Nothing. Brow furrowed, you squeeze a little harder.  
The entire lid comes off, drenching your burger in ketchup. It is now basically inedible. You stare, immobile, the calm before the storm. Your hand is shaking a bit, you realize. You swallow, turn the bottle upright (it hardly matters - it _all_ came out, anyway.), try to keep your face impassive. (It's not even that you...well. Youre fucking hungry. But you'll live, obviously. But you were _so close._ **So close** to getting to eat good food.) You set the bottle down carefully, making sure your hand doesn't shake. No need to get upset over a burger. (You already are, but no need to let someone _else_ see you're upset over a burger.) There are a few seconds of silence. You don't look at Sans. Your hands have ketchup on them, but you don't know where the napkins are, and for some reason that just makes it so much worse.  
"uh....sorry, buddy. not a very good joke, i guess." You're fighting the uncomfortable, squirming sensation in your skin. You need to get somewhere people can't see you, wrap a blanket round yourself. Instead, you keep your shaking hands below counter-level, trying not to touch anything, including yourself. You're blinking a lot, which is _stupid_ it was _just_ a _burger_ -you take a deep breath, eyes closing.  
"here. have mine. i'm not too hungry, anyway."  
_  
Watching the way their eyes had widened at the food - they were obviously kind of hungry. He figured he'd give them the other burg, anyway.  
Their expression after the ketchup drenched their burger had been uncomfortably like Pap's the one time he jokingly messed with his spaghetti. They looked like they were about to cry. They swallow, blinking rapidly, and turn the (now empty) ketchup bottle upright. He's glad Grillbz is with another customer right now, 'cause he's pretty sure he'd kill him. They're continually blinking, though they don't seem to notice it, and their breath is hitching a little.  
_note to self: don't mess with anybody else's food_. It just seemed to be a bad streak. They stare down at their hands, which are splattered with ketchup, flexing them a little. They look largely discomfitted. It takes him a few seconds to speak.  
"uh....sorry, buddy. not a very good joke, i guess." They don't respond, but by this point they're twitching just a little, the way he's seen Frisk do when they're overstimulated, and that leads to a horrible thought. They're still blinking quickly, hands lowering slowly to beneath the counter.  
He picked the wrong person's food to mess with. They try to breath in, but it catches visibly, though there's no sound, and they're closing their eyes. He's ticking off the signs in the back of his mind. In the meantime, he has to fix his fuckup.  
"here. have mine. i'm not too hungry, anyway." He certainly isn't _now_. Their shoulders are rising and falling slowly, and their eyes are still closed. They almost look like they fell asleep standing up.  
"...kid?" He asks cautiously. Their eyes open automatically and they flash a blinding smile.  
"Excuse me," they tell him, before curtsying and heading toward the fire exit. Their gait is just a bit off as they open the fire exit and step through. He feels Grillby's eyes on him. They fall to the counter, where the ketchup-drowned burger and empty bottle stand like evidence. Grillby's gaze returns to him. He pushes up from the barstool.  
"yeah, 'm going," he mutters.  
_  
They ignore Jess and Alex, weaving around them to the back exit. They need to be alone, but they don't want to disappear and worry Grillby. This is the compromise.  They push the door open - there's still ketchup on their hands, and they _hate hate_ the feel of it, the texture is slimey and uncomfortable and it _shouldn't be there_  and they shove their hands in the snow as the door swings closed, swirling them around. It's cold, but it should (hopefully) get them clean. The ice crystals sting their hands a little bit, but when they pull them out of the snow, there's no trace of red, just the pink of offended skin.   
"kid?" Sans appears beside them, too close but it doesn't startle them, not like it should considering, but they don't think this Sans would kill them.  
Maybe. They still jump, and he scratches the back of his skull, mutters an apology.  
"uh...look, are you-" They start pacing, footsteps crunching through the snow, and he seems mildly alarmed. They feel like a caged animal, cold hands clenching and unclenching and they just-they just gotta-he's speaking, and the words crowd out the other thoughts until they want to scream, to make him shut up to _make him stop talking so they can think_ because the words scratch like wool as they drag their way into their skull, and they hunch their shoulders and stop pacing so they don't put their hands over their ears to block out the noise, because that would be rude.  
"kid? are you okay? i, uh, meant it when i said you could have the other burger. sorry for, uh, playin that prank on ya. wasn't very _kosher_ ," and he chuckles like it's habit at his own joke, but they're pacing again partway through because the words stir _move move move_ they need to _move_ and it isn't the _words_ it's the sound of them and it also _is_ the words, the having to listen so they can talk so they can be social because they're dangerously close to breaking down and they haven't had an actual meltdown in maybe a year, but it feels like they're much too close to one and they do their best to tune him out. The scratching, jigging, itching feeling is making them twitch, and they want to curl up in a ball and run until they can't anymore and he's stopped speaking, staring at them and they can't - _eyes on them_ \- they leave to Waterfall, to the isolated bubble in a wall that's near-always prevalent in the Underground, and they fortify it, _no one in_  and make it soundproof so the only thng they can hear is their own breathing and the scratching of their fingernails on the walls, and there are no eyes here, except their own, and some of the pressure that's been building slowly escapes. They think of the burgers with a strong flair of envy, of jealousy, and they're still hungry but they _refuse_ to eat something inferior right now, it's not _fair_ and they'll eat _later_ but right now that would be _submitting_ to the _not-fair_ and they _won't_ do that, they _won't_. They strengthen the barrier when someone taps on it, and if someone touches it again it'll sting like static - not harmful, but unpleasant. Vengeance satiated, they curl up around themself, making sure even Jump can't come in (because they feel her looking and they don't want _pity_ they don't want Jump looking at them like they can't...like they can't.. _do_ things, and sometimes they can't but _that doesn't give people a right!_ \- they don't want her there when they're so...unstable, so probable to lash out. It's best to just be alone when they're like this.) and they build a wall in their mind, tinge of vindictive satisfaction. _You don't let me see_ your _side. Why should you get to see mine?_ They think, with more than a little venom. They don't say it, though. Their arms are curled around themself, and they just want..  
..they just want to be taken care of. It's stupid, it's _stupid_ because they're an _adult_ they're _supposed_ to be able to take care of themself now - but that line of thought isn't helping, so they switch the tracks so it derails, and they watch it fall over with satisfaction. There were no passengers or crew aboard, anyway. Just a vicious train, and usually they like trains because they're steam-engines and they like the concept, they like the word and how it looks and how it sounds and that it reminds them of a mechanic wiping his hand off on a rag and shiny, bright copper, and steampunk things, of course, but tihs was an _enemy_ train, so to speak.  
They suppose they should have captured it instead, they think with a tinge of regret. The poor train didn't do anythig wrong. It can't help who made it.  
They fully realize that most people would think this line of thought is insane as well as inane, but it's how they think and it distracts them from the itching, and it's how they like to think, anyway, so it doesn't matter if other people don't like it. _They_ like it, and it's theirs, not other people's, so other people can go screw.  
They've calmed down a lot now, though they can't tell how long it's been. How did a simple outing go so wrong? They could reload, but they don't want to. Not right now. Right now, they want to be alone. And they don't. But they don't want _eyes_ on them, watching, having to arrange their facial expression so that other people can understand it and for not the first time, they wish they had a mask they could just hide behind so that they didn't have to be exposed to the world all the time. 


	2. The failed attempt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Trying to bring Other through doesn't work like they had hoped.

They tried to pull you through, from the other place. It didn't work, although you could feel the world shifting around you like one of Sans's shortcuts.  
Fell had required consoling. He brought a bouqet of flowers to celebrate your arrival.  
Honey was upset too, but not as much, and you could only focus on comforting one person at a time. No temporal travel, someone had told you after you tried. It left you a little disoriented, and you had wondered if going to the Void counted. You needed somewhere to make Fell not upset (because his instincts probably wouldn't let him let his guard down in the snow) and you didn't want to use Honey's room for that. So, you improvised.  
The first that appeared was the coliseum where your boys live, and that after you'd struggled a little to make a house and called up my house. You disappeared it - you weren't trying to awe them too much, and a bit of mystery never hurt anyone.  
Well, not on it's own, anyway. The next that came up was...someone else's house. An older self that had no place whatsoever in this world. Hesitated (it was a lovely home, but it wasn't, ah. You like keeping things compartmentalized, and draggging an old home into a new place is not.) before working on making a house. But it's too much detail at once; you don't know what you want it to look like, besides warm, and you have to have an idea before you can make it a reality. After a bit you huff, then realize you have the perfect thing anyway.  
Your room. The one you've been designing since forever.   
It's bright, with one wall made of glass (a window into another place, one with a waterfall very nearby). It's one-way, of course, and it's only a view - were the glass to break, the only thing there would be the Void, or the extra-imposed limits of your house. The ceiling is.....very, very high. You have more than one 'perch'. The entire thing is your nest, if you want to be specific, but there are enclosed small spaces scattered throughout. You pull Fell up to one near the top.  
He doesn't like the height- says it's 'precarious' - and you hear the nervousness in his voice, so you make it into a glass room with a black iron sprialled staircase, and ask if that's better. It is, but he still doesn't like it. You sigh (though not at him; of course you'd get a mate who's afraid of heights) and the both of you are on the ground, in a mini-room with a bed, the whole thing surrounded by curtains - side, and top. He removes his armor slowly, storing it in his inventory (you aren't sure about the stability of this place, and while you could get him out if something happened, managing to grab his armor at the same time might be a bit much. It still gets you that he trusts you enough to take his armor off around you.  
But after not-very-long there's something coming and you don't know what it is but you are not having him here where he could get hurt, so you bring him back to Honey's world and then go back because if you just ignored it it might overflow or do hell knows what and there's a Gaster who's playing with you the same way you play with people, and he keeps making you forget him. If you didn't have an anchor in the other world, you would never remember he was there. He tells you there was never any danger - or there was never any storm? It was one or the other - but of course you don't know to believe him or not. In any case, the danger seemed to be past for the moment, but you weren't going to bring Fell back into the Void at the moment, out of paranoia.


	3. I know 7/10/16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a little angst from Other's point of view.

I know that I'm going to get attacked, when I get to a new world.  
Maybe not every time.  
Maybe sometimes they stop, when they see how scared I am. But isn't it _stupid_ , in the basest way, that I _know_ and I go _anyway_ because _they still need help_  and well, I've always been more than a little self-destructive. I should at least have the decency to not chip away at myself with other people, though.  
Oh, well.  
And even better? I _could_ take someone with me- another Sans, Honey, maybe even G. I could change my shape so I _look_ like a monster, so I don't get attacked on sight, so I don't have to keep my guard up like a flimsy paper shield because even if I _know_ it's coming, it's going to hurt twice as much coming from Sans, because I _hate_ it but I _love him_ as a person, and Undyne could run me through and I wouldn't feel a thing, hardly, but all he has to do is lower his tone of voice and I go into a stupid fucking _panic_.  
Maybe it's fun. Maybe I enjoy being the damsel in distress, or just making trouble for myself.  
Maybe I'm too used to it to change.  
But _isn't it stupid_ , because every time I go to a new place, I _hope_....that Sans won't hurt me, just because of who, of _what_ , I am.


	4. Dance Break 8/10/16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You blow off a little steam in a Dancetale. It goes better than you would expect.

Dancetale is more and more appealing.  
 _Hunt you down, eat you alive_ -spin, spin, spin, arm out  
 _just like animals, like animals, like animals_  - head thrown back, chest out. There's a sort of weightlessness that comes with dancing, when you do it right.  
The song continues. Eventually, you bow to your partner, and go your separate ways.  
 _(howling) Baby I'm preying on you tonight, hunt you down eat you alive_ \- swirl again, fall in on yourself, then out. You dance alone, twirling, jumping, shimmying; you don't need a partner, to enjoy yourself. You have an audience of one at the moment, and you put emphasis into your dance to play with them.  
They step out of the shadows, and you quirk a challenging smile at them. You think you see a small smile in response under all that shadow, before a boney hand takes yours.  
He starts off fast, and you almost stumble several times trying to adapt your style, but it's fun once you do. You can't breakdance, but you can imitate the jerky movements. The song ends, and another comes on. You laugh at the new song.  
 _Ice, ice baby_. You feel a bit self-conscious, but resolve to ignore it, moving out of habit to the beat.  
 _girls, wearing less than bikinis_. You hear a helpless snort, and glance over. Stop dancing.   
" _really?_ "  He's holding back laughter. You let your arms fall to your sides. The song continues, unimpeded. Shrug.  
"It was what came on. I considered changing it to 'who let the dogs out,' but I hadn't heard this one in a while, either." You bounce in place, unable to ignore the beat. He covers his face with one hand, blue. His attempts to hold back laughter are admirable. You sigh at him, snap your fingers.  
 _You can't touch this_. Grinning like a loon, you shake your hips. He facepalms further as you dance around him in a circle, mockingly..  
"Come on, blue-boy. Or you gonna let me win?" You ask teasingly, sticking your tongue out. You see a flash of something in his eyesockets before he suddenly _moves_ , and you grin harder in triumph. Damn, you wish you could move like that.  
Oh, well. You hope you make up  for it with enthusiasm. You giggle periodically throughout the song, because dancing is _fun_. Sans takes it entirely too seriously, you think. You do your best to meld your dancing styles, but aren't really sure how to be in rythym with him; he's kind of swirling and unapproachable at the moment. Is he embarrassed? Did you do something wrong? You keep dancing, a little worried you upset him somehow. It isn't as fun.You shimmy over, hold out a hand to him. He blinks, takes it. You pull him over, sling him past yourself, and dip him before releasing and gettign into the jagging part of the song. He blinks, face still kind of dark, then snerks.  
"have you danced with Pap yet?" He asks, doing absurd things you almost stop dancing yourself to watch. Shake your head,  
"Nah. Not yet. What's he, classical? _Something_ energetic." He blinks at you again, but his mood doesn't seem to be as dark. You wonder if he knows you can see his moods, or if thinks they're hidden? Another strong part comes, and you throw yourself into it. The song ends, and you slip your hands in your pockets.   
"You okay, dude?" He doesn't look quite well.   
 _Who let the dogs out_. You don't start dancing, but leave it on. You do move in place a little, but try to make it obvious he doesn't have to dance with you.  
"Oh!" You exclaim. You bow to him. He blinks, returns the gesture, and you grin at him.  
"Thanks for dancin with me." You wink at him - because why not - before hula-ing away to dance by yourself again. A hip bumps yours, and you blink and look. He seems a bit uncertain, takes you hand and spins you. You let out a pealing laugh (he must've blinked over; you didn't feel him follow you) and spin back to him, let the music carry you. It's a little less awkward this time, and by the time the song ends it looks like he's enjoying himself a little. You stop the next song beforeit comes on, reach behind you to put your hair up.  
"You didn't have to dance with me, you know. Sorry if you thought you did." You bite your lip. He blinks.  
"n-no, uh...it was..fun." He doesn't sound like he's _lying_ , but there's obviously something on his mind. You sigh, snapping your fingers. Instantly, you're in normal clothes - and clean.  
"So, what'd you wanna talk about? Obviously there's _something_." He's blinking at you incomprehensively.  
"did you just...." You blink at him.   
Okay, then. Nod.   
His brow furrows.  
"how...?" He's trying to puzzle it out.  
You don't really want to get attacked right now, which is probably what will happen if you tell him. Instead, you just sigh, shaking your head at yourself. Why did you expect to be somewhere he _knew?_  
"uh," he breaks you out of your internal chastising.  
"how..?" This time it seems as though he's actually asking for an answer. Puff out your breath.  
"Well, you see. When a mommy human, and a daddy human, love each other _very_ much, they decide-" his eyes narrow at you. Yours narrow at him.  
"I'm getting there." He seems skeptical, but nods anyway. You nod back.  
" _Anyway_ , when a mommy human and a daddy human love each other _very_ much, they decide to have a baby. Sometimes. Sometimes they _don't_ love each other. But that's besides the point." You roll your eyes.  
" _Some_ times, a mommy monster and a daddy human decide _they_ love each other very much, and decide to have a baby. Of course," you tone transitions from that of kid-storytelling to more of your actual voice, "then the kiddo isn't quite, uh. _One or the other_. You get someone like me. A hybrid." His magic is gathered. That's probably not a good sign. You can't see his expression through it. You swallow.  
"Of course, that was generations ago. And that was..only _one_ of my ancestors. Well, two, I guess." You make hand motions accompanyingly.  
"But there was also a dragon in there somewhere, _and_ of course humans." You shrug, eyes closing momentarily.  
"Besides that. I mean, I might also be other things? Er, species? But, I don't know about them. For certain." Besides your shadow, but you don't know if that's genealogical. You speak before he has to connect the wrong wires.  
"Also, I'm not the human you know. Even if I really look like them. I'm just, um, visiting. Sorry. I wanted to dance, and this is a good place to come to do that." You hold your elbow, head down a little. Your voice quiets partway through. You don't lookk at him, because if he's angry you don't want to see it.  
"...why did you let me think you were them?" He sounds puzzled and suspicious. You hide a wince.  
"I forgot? I don't, ah, always _know_....that I'm not the native timeline resident. In this instance, though, I just thought you knew me. Guess you kind of did, but not in the way I thought." You exhale, slowly. You want to leave. You don't want to get hurt again. You don't want to have this conversation again. You don't want to be scared right now. You were just having fun.....There's silence for a few seconds as the air around you grows heavier and darker.  
"...huh. well. i'm not gonna hurt you, unless ya try ta hurt someone here." You blink. He sounds cautious. You laugh, a tiny bit, but it's humorless. Smooth out your shirt, still lookign down.  
"I should be going anyway," you mumble. A hand shoots out and grabs you by the arm. It doesn't send you into an instant panic, which is surprising. You look up at his tone.  
"hey. i mean it. i'm not gonna attack you just 'cause you're..." He gestures. _Part human_. You exhale. He would, probably, if he knew you were _something else_ , but you're trying to not get yourself wrecked today. (Well. Not like _that_ , at least.) His expression is serious. You nod, because you have to respond somehow, nd he lets go, albeit reluctantly.  
"....come back and dance sometime. it was fun," he tells you, before blipping away. You blink at the spot where he was. After a half-second, your head tilts. A perplexed little smile lifts  your mouth, and a tinge of HOPE finds it's way into your chest. Maybe...


	5. Something of Honey 4/10/16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> /Hugely/ NSFW. Established relationship. Safe BDSM.

Lovemaking with Honey had been...different, than usual.  
It was a good kind of different.   
It had also provided some rather unfortunate insight into his...past experiences (not involving sex, you presume), that you made careful note of. For example: The smooth voice that comes naturally, when you're domming? Don't use it. Just don't. It reminds him of Gaster, in what you gather to be a traumatic manner (though, and you'll have to ask, you don't think he ever....did _that_ to Honey.  
But you will have to ask, because if he did, you'll have to be even more careful. And it's not that you'll mind - but you don't want to trigger something, and you want Honey to feel safe with you.), so that's right out. You only learn that with careful, (as gentle as you can be, at that moment) prying. He also can't stand being strapped down - weights on his femurs are fine, you find, but when you made bands with magic, he had been scared, like he was almost not seeing _you_.   
The two of you switched over from that kind of sex-you kept the lead, for the most part (until you had brought him to orgasm enough times that he felt it was his turn to do the same with you, which slowly devolved into you getting fucked, basically.)-but were much...gentler, with him.   
It was a side of him-soft, and he's always soft, in a way, but it was a different _kind_ of soft, a willing (or unwilling, when you scared him by accident, which makes your SOUL twist a little in remembrance) kind of vulnerability.  
You want to see him like that again, but you aren't going to dom him, at least not quite so aggressively. He did seem to like being bitten, though, but you will double check just to make sure you weren't misunderstanding, because, well.  
Sex should be pleasant. And if you're wrong and he _didn't_ like the biting like you think he did, well. Biting would be rather uncomfortable if you didn't like it, wouldn't it?  
All of this had occured because you had playfully pulled him down for a kiss, bit him on the mandible, and then pushed him down. He had been surprised, flushed, and....a little scared, you thought, but weren't sure. You were careful until he gave you the go-ahead, and the rest is a bit of a haze, but you do know you made sure he knew the safeword, the 'I'm-getting-uncomfortable' word, and that you would always stop if he said to. And you always did. With a roll of the eyes the second time (he had wanted to continue, but without...something, not that you remember exactly what, and you had continued without that something) you had said 'What _now_ ,' which still makes you want to hurt yourself because _yes_ you were in _that mode_ but you still should have _snapped_ out of it.   
Most of that session was foreplay - biting him, licking, kissing. You'll have to be more careful next time, maybe have a talk beforehand to see if there's anything else that would upset him (you would have the first time, except it just kind of _happened_ ), but oh, you want to do it again. He's always beautiful, but it's another side of him, and oh, do you like seeing him panting, begging for _more_. You're not sure what to make of the fact that your shadow was a part of you throughout the whole of it, except after when you became more gentle, when it mostly receded - _mate protect_ mine, because, well. That's what your shadow is for. _Hunting_. Yes, that too. Protecting, though, mostly. (And a snort from inside before it curls back up and goes to sleep. Since when is the shadowed part of you a separate manifestation? Should you be concerned...? No, probably not.)   
More towards the end, it had been being very careful with your hard edges and self to not scrape against his composure, to only give him the softer parts of yourself, because right now even those had just a flicker of a hardness, an edge.   
He had been shaken, but you had asked if he wanted to continue, a few times to make sure, and he said _yes_ , though not in the same way he had said _fuck me_ , all desperate and bright-eyed when you'd asked what he wanted the first time.  
  
So you had gone slowly, making sure he was okay the whole way through, checking and taking a pause to come up and kiss him, to run your fingers over his ribs and spine reassuringly, making sure, making sure again that he wanted to continue, that he was _sure_ , because it was okay if he didn't (but he must have seen the disappointment in your eyes the first time, and if you could have _not_ let him see that, you would have, because it wasn't fair, and you worry that now he'll be afraid to say no, and that's why you asked so many times, because you don't, don't, don't, want to upset him, you want to make him happy.) and you had trailed back down to his pelvic region, where he had formed a beautiful pussy for you to play with, and you'd swiped across it with your tongue a few times (and sometimes it was _just_ your physical tongue, and others it wasn't, your shadowed self contributing a ghost of a touch, an _extension_ ,) and found his clit, rubbing it gently but not softly, and he had hissed a breath, and you had paused to make sure he was okay, then kept on, exploring with your tongue, but not going _in_ , not quite yet, because you could tell he was tense and you didn't want ti to hurt.   
You rubbed circles in his thighs before licking a little more intensely, then _sucking_ , and the sound he made was uncontrolled and just the right edge of surprise, almost _panic_ but not, and you had leant back to look up at him and telling him to relax, and you had the voice wrong the first time, but got it right the second, and then he did, just a little, and the tip of your tongue found it's way inside and you didn't even know what kind of a sound he made, or whether he made one, honestly, because you were concentrating on the resistance to the intrusion.   
You had kept rubbing little circles in his thighs, and you'd already learned you _couldn't_ tie-well, you couldn't _strap_ him down, and maybe _up_ would be okay, but that wasn't a project for right now,-couldn't strap him down, but you didn't want to have to concentrate on holding him down, either, and you were pretty sure that would be okay, so you asked if you could weight down his legs and he gave his approval, so you did and resumed your activity, not having to worry bout him jolting up and whacking you in the face by accident.  
You held his hands with yours after kissing the palm of one, and he had relaxed enough that your tongue slid in, at least partially, with not resistance. He'd sort of jolted, but you were rather certain it was in the good way, so you continued. At some point, you'd take one hand back to gently push a finger inside, but he had shuddered (you had been expecting that, to be honest, but thought you'd try. Considering that using your fingers is, well, the most conventional method for _fingering_ someone.) He'd complained that it was too solid, and you'd withdrawn the finger in favor of just using your tongue. Of course, perhaps....you breathe into him, vaporlike colored substance flooding in. He squirms as you continue your ministrations, and then the vapor solidifies, shifting between semi-solid and intangible (but you're sure it tingles, even when it isn't.) An idea falls from the back shelf of your mind, and you catch it in interest.  
Yes, that just might work. You summon a tendril - not a _something else_  one, because that would just be asking for trouble as far as reminding him of things, but you aren't really sure _what_ kind of magic it is anyway. It hardly matters, you suppose; as long as it won't upset him, it doesn't. [As long as it won't harm him' doesn't cross your mind, because your magic wouldn't.] You catch his eye, and the pseudo-limb wave-wiggles at him. He approves it, and the smoke dissipates sometime between then and when it's farther than your tongue can reach inside him.  
By the time three are inside (you've removed your tongue at this point, at least from _that_ part of his body) and twisting together, he's absolutely _squirming_. It feels... _good_ , oddly, to have them inside of him, and you'd be content with  making him come until he's done like this, probably, but he wants you to fuck him (still. He _still_ wants you to fuck him, even after you fucked up.) and you consider it and then do so. And you can't remember if he asked for a knot or not (pun unintentional) but you hope he enjoyed it. You _think_ he did. After, you think he might have given you a blowjob - or maybe he let you give him one? It's a little fuzzy. But he fucked you, after, and yes, you asked for a knot.


	6. Dental care 10/10/16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Walkabout at the lab while brushing your teeth.

You're on walkabout, not going anywhere in particular, when you end up in a lab.  
At least it doesn't make you hyperventilate to be in one, anymore. It might have something to do with the fact that the lighting isn't like something you'd see straight out of a horror movie, but. You're getting off task.   
You're supposed to be brushing your teeth. This mission is somewhat impaired by the skeleton in a labcoat staring at you, looking not _nearly_ as baffled as he should. He doesn't seem to be threatened by your presence, so you aren't particularly bothered by his.  
You continue to brush your teeth. Into your field of vision, a Doctor - _the_ Doctor himself, skeletal and in the midst of some thought until he sees you, and stops.  
"Who are you?" Although there was something peculiar about his voice. You can't quite place it. Maybe he never _spoke?_ Yes, that's probably about right. Then again, maybe not. You aren't sure how to answer - Sans does, for you.  
"our new intern." He steps forward a little, as though this will make it more true. Your eyebrows raise, but have no objections. The doctor's eyelights return to you.  
"You don't remember me, sir?" Eyebrows raised - mildly incredulous, just the very barest edge of possibly offended. As well as the tiniest tinge of amusement.  
 _Why aren't you wearing a labcoat?_ You don't think he buys it - maybe he does? You're hardly one to be able to tell. - but he's playing along, nonetheless. You behave as a forgetful, somewhat abashed intern might.  
"I forgot it in my locker, sir....my apologies..." Head bowed to indicate charming bashfulness. (A role that works particularly well with teachers.) His frown deepens somewhat.  
 _And why are you in pajamas?_ This takes you a second, in which you look a bit shocked. You turn it around.  
"You say not to let yourself be distracted by unimportant things, sir. Therefore, the pajamas. They're comfortable." Not _exactly_ how you word it, but close enough. If he had hair, his eyeridges would probably be stuck in it.   
 _Still, don't you think it's somewhat unprofessional?_ He isn't even _chiding_ , not really, just asking and suggesting at the same time. You aren't really sure which is more prevalent. You salute wildly.  
"Right, sir! It won't happen again, sir!" You're barely keeping a grin off your face at this point, and you haven't looked over at Sans, but think you sense an air of general bewilderment radiating off him. (And some amusement. Brows come together just a little more.  
 _Why are you brushing your teeth?_ No judgement. Oh, goodness gracious. Can you work here? _Now?_ So you can keep playing with the doctor? You aren't sure you do manage to keep the grin off your face.  
"Sir! You aren't telling me you think dental hygiene is unimportant, sir!" This time, the half-mock affront (almost as though _you_ , the intern, are chastising _him_ ) is prevalent in your tone and posture.  
 _.....I wouldn't dream of it_ , he deadpans, before walking off. You break down laughing, which doesn't work so well when you have a mouthful of toothpaste, so it's really more _controlled_ breaking down laughing.   
"Oooooh, thanks man. I haven't had a laugh like that since...well...I'm not sure when." It'd have been better if you weren't having to try not to get toothpaste everywhere. Sans does indeed look somewhat baffled, though also amused. You stumble off, though, for some reason - or, rather, you end up pulled somewhere.  
"Look out!" A child - Papyrus- tells you. You turn to look - a burly monster - probably RG 0?, you're pretty sure the dragon one - has...something, raised, and is about to bash you over the head with it. Well. That's an untenable position. It's only a bit of a blur- somehow, there's more space between the two of you, or maybe you just thought he was closer than he was. You throw up a shield (more for the child's benefit than yours) and trying to 'see' if there's anyone else in the room. Unfortunately, it's a useless persuit. You grab the child and bring him to outside the lab - he'll be safe there, unless he decides to wander into the lava, which you doubt. He's not _that_ young. (Still losing teeth, but not a toddler.)   
You and the Guard talk. You apologize for jumping to conclusions, admitting that even if something horrible was going on, he probably wouldn't know too much about it - he seems to be a guard, and while Guards _can_ be scientists, it's pretty unorthodox to be both at the same time. You leave him somewhat perplexed as well - Sans reappears, scolding that you left Papyrus outside alone. You say he was safe - since when do monsters attack their own kind? Let alone children.   
He blinks at you, slowly. You don't think he expected that. After that it's a bit of a mish-mosh.  
The doctor comes by - probably also to see what the commotion was about, although you didn't think anyone was very loud? It could have been the magic output, or the Guard's signature tipping them off. Or Papyrus yelling, you suppose.  
It continues to occur to you that you're most likely here for a reason. After a few questions about children - the guard had said that Papyrus was Sans's brother, and he was sick. That they were treating him here. You said he seemed quite fine to you. (But you hadn't really examined him, so you probably wouldn't know, for certain.) you grow tired of beating around the bush and Judge Gaster. Before this, you mention that your experiences with labs and children have not been the best.  
Why import lab rabbits or ask for volunteers when you can make your own? And children are so _easy_ to keep quiet.  
You hadn't been quite able to read Sans's expression. Something like 'abject horror' might describe the basis, however. (This was probably _before_ Gaster came, but when the Guard had already either left or faded into the background.)  
Gaster passes with flying colors and half-disintegrates at the same time. It's very interesting. The disintegrating must have been a split, or your imagination (more than usual, anyway) because he just looked down at his chest (where you had slashed) and said,   
 _Oh,_ like it was simply a mildly remarkable event. Nothing particularly out of the ordinary. Your more professional (but not threatening) demeanor came to the surface. You apologized, citing that you found it best not to take chances with children, and also for any offense you might have caused. The two of you were on the same page one such matters, it seemed, so any offense appeared to be minimal.   
There was more to the conversation before it devolved to you talking about yourself (they weren't talking much, and you tend to go on tangents about _anything_...you tried to steer the conversation back on track a few times, but it didn't really work.) like you asking Gaster what the problem was.  
Because, as you said, if you weren't here about kids, there was probably something wrong. He'd hesitated only slightly before asking you if you knew about the effects of determination on monsters.  
You'd gone on to detail how you'd managed to fix that problem - in other worlds.You did warn that you didn't know how magic worked _here_ , specificially, so it might not work at all.  
'Form a constant source of Kindness to offset the Determination - just a little; you don't want to overload their systems, once you've flushed out the excess DT - as well as a mild, constant source of DT - in their system.' You had done it in their SOULs, but supposed it _might_ be doable elsewhere? But, regardless.  Gaster had eyed you suspiciously, and you still weren't sure why. You had stammered that of course, you didn't know how magic worked _here_ , so maybe it was horribly implausible. It was just how you'd done it in other worlds. Eventually - though you aren't sure if he was lying for some reason, or if he was actually telling the truth - he said no, it sounded like it would, in fact, work.  He'd asked something like 'why kindness' and you had replied that they were complementary colors, of course. He had asked for your name again, and you'd almost told him your real one, before saying,  
"Other. Like I told you."   
 _Don't you have another name?_ You had said, yes, of course. But this is the name you use for this kind of world, and it's sufficient. He said it was a very... _something else_...sort of name. You'd said you were a very _something else_ kind of person and shown him your teeth. You'd reached, but he wasn't? Like you.  
 _You haven't neutralized it yet_ , he had sounded somewhat astonished. You asked if that would take away your ability to defend yourself using it. His silence was answer enough, and you responded that it had saved your life on at least one occasion to be able to do so, and probably would again (especially in your line of work). The conversation had mostly been you talking about yourself because you got distracted. You would realize and try to steer it back in the right direction, but they were quiet and not really. Speaking much? Lots of information, probably. You had just told them you came form another world, were a hybrid 'calling me a mutt would not be too innaccurate', you'd said to Sans - etcetera, etcetera. Not that they most likely would (or should) trust what you said implicitly.   
You met the Katydid of this world (you forgot to ask if they had a mother, or?) and mentioned in bewilderment that you had a child named Katydid.   
Well, two. One was adopted. They eventually asked you why they were named such, and you'd said _they're half skeleton, of course.  
And half what else _Sans had asked. You'd snorted and said _half-skeleton, a bunch of bits of little things_. Or something like that.  
It was an interesting little visit. You got to hold the young one. Gaster asked if you hadn't seen your daughter in a while, and you had stiffened and gone off on a tangent about how time travel is a fickle mistress, and _no_ , you haven't, especially since she hasn't been _born_ yet and -you'd trailed off, but you don't particularly want to muscle in on future-you's relationship with their kid, especially since. You aren't _really_ their mom? Not yet? You didn't say that part outloud.  
(You think at some point one of them remarked to the other that you were more of a mother than a scientist, which offended you. _Family always comes first_ , you tell them. _And I'm not a female._ Consequently, not a mother. Unless by default.) Of course, you went through half of this interview as a bipedal dragon. That was fun and nice. You hadn't been a dragon in a while.  You were yellow.


	7. A friendly face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written 14/10/16  
> In which we learn that Other really, really hasn't been treated well by Sans in most timelines, if that hadn't already been hammered in.

They stand outside, holding their breath and releasing it to create white puffs of vapor. They giggle silently at this, and the cheerful bite of the cold. At some point, they're sure, a Sans-or maybe even Papy! They aren't quite certain what kind of timeline they've ended up in-will probably come find them, but for now they're determined to enjoy the cold weather. Once it sets in on the Surface, they'll be getting sick of it, so they're making sure to enjoy it _now_ , while they _aren't_.   
They blow another puff of air, smiling to themself. It's so... _not solid_. Very unlike their magic, they think. But maybe their magic doesn't look as solid to other people as it does to them? They exhale, watching yet another baby cloud spiral and twist up and away.  
"heh. really keepin yourself entertained, huh kid?" They jump, just a little. Wonder how he managed to arrive without them noticing - they're usually good about that. It hardly matters; they know he's here _now_ , even if they can't really see him. They hold their breath again, determined to make an extra solid cloud.  
"i'd join ya, but. i guess i'm not _full of hot air_." They turn to glare at him. It's probably in the wrong direction, but whatever. They release, and the cloud is disappointingly not much different from the others. A little bit, they suppose, but not _very_. Huffing, they decide they're done with this activity for now, crossing their arms and tilting their head.  
"not much of a talker today? that's fine. i guess i'll be the _chatter-bones_ today." They snort, drawing their eyebrows togeher and covering their mouth.  
They are _not_ impressed. That was a _terrible_ pun. Simply awful.  
Okay, simply mediocre. Points for orginality, though. Their eyebrows raise, and they seesaw a hand.  
They still can't see him - or much of anything - in even the usual way. This them must be _very_ blind. The most they can see is the dark, and maybe some light, coming from... _oh. They're_ seeing _. They're actually, properly_ seeing.   
Sans steps forward in the near-dark, but they don't hear the crunch very well. He walks quietly, or they don't have good hearing.  
Probably the first; they know Sans can be sneaky, when he wants to. Another head tilt, with a questioning expression.  
"yeah, didn't think that one would really pass your muster." They smile in response to that, somewhat. He steps forward again, and they wonder why he's moving so slowly.  
"but, uh. buddy. what're you doing out so late?" His head finally raises, and they can actually _see_ concern in his eyelights, for once, not just...project the image. They blink, shrug. Gesture to the air. He huffs, shoulders slumping.  
"you're gonna get sick, you keep sneaking out here in the middle of the night," he half-murmurs. Almost like he's not sure whether he should be saying it out loud or not.  
Does he not want them to visit? They wince mildly at the thought, hands coming up to rest on their upper arms. He exhales.  
"nah, not what i meant, buddy. it's great seein ya. it's just..." He gestures around.  
"how much longer can we keep this a secret? paps is startin to get suspicious." They resist the urge to stomp. They don't _have_ to keep it a secret! Well, if 'it' is that they're meeting up. They cross their arms, fix him with a stern expression.  
The changeling effect is wearing off, but talking doesn't feel right yet. They exhale, shoulders drooping. He scratches the back of his head.  
"yeah, i know, buddy. i know." Why isn't he closer, if he thinks they're his friend? They huff out a breath, holding their arms a bit closer. They're getting slightly cold.  
"here," and he must have shortcutted or something, because they're _sure_ they just saw him standing at least two yards away. He offers them his coat.  
They'd love to accept, but. They aren't the person he thinks they are, and that would be dishonest. They shake their head instead, reaching into their inventory for something warm. They find their old Army jacket and put it on - it isn't the fuzziest, but they love camoflauge. He tilts his head.  
"...huh. new coat?" They shake their head. He scratches his, eyes narrowed in thought (though not suspicion) before dropping it with a shrug. They stick their hands in the pockets, burrowing down.  
They still don't want to talk, not even the other way. It's...so _nice_ , having a person not treat them with contempt or expecting them to be perfect. They don't think Honey or Jump or Fell _do_ expect them to be perfect, but they feel like they have to be. And that makes spending time with them a lot less relaxing.  
Oh, well. Meanwhile, they don't miss the look of concern - their vision is slowly shifting back to the way they usually see - Sans is sporting.  
"you okay, bud?" And his voice is soft, and they wish...  
...well, they wish a lot of things. It doesn't matter, really. There's no use being jealous, or _wishing_ they had that kind of relationship with a Sans - non-judgemental, just...companionship. They shrug, morose and not in the mood to pretend otherwise. Exhale, let it go.   
They still don't want to talk. They realize they're leaning against the sentry station, and blink, looking around.  
Sans cracks up.  
"i was wondering when you'd notice," he manages between snorts. They glare and huff at him half-heartedly, annoying fondness rising up. They roll their eyes at him, which just makes him cackle harder. They lean further against the booth, contemplative. They really _don't_ want to talk, but there's obviously _something_ going on here that maybe they can fix.  
In the other hand, they also just really want to enjoy the relaxed atmosphere.  
_Fuck it_. They slump to allow their head to rest on his shoulder, because it just doesn't matter.  
"uh....kid?" Worry, and some sort of strain...? They start to remove their head, but a light hand on it stops them.  
"nah," he whispers.  
"this is cool." They sigh, exhaling and relaxing further against him. They'll have to explain they aren't... _his_ person...soon, because he seems to think this is a development...? If they'd known they weren't that close...well, they wouldn't have. Because this'll confuse him...just like they confused the Sans that got drunk...they really need to resolve that...they sigh, and he hesitates before feathering their hair, gently.  
It makes something inside them twist, and speaking suddenly is a lot easier - or maybe it just needs to be done.  
"I'm not your Teya," they murmur. The hand pauses, and they could almost swear it trembles, a little.  
"i know," he says quietly, and they aren't sure if he's lying or not.  
"You know?" They half-lift their head to see his expression (a moot point; they can't).  
"i know." Their brow furrows, and they keep their head partially-raised, unsure. He resumes threading his phalanges through their hair, and it makes them shiver, nerves firing all at once before relaxing, as their head slowly lowers back onto his shoulder.  
"you don't feel like them," he continues. They puff out a breath, surprised.  
"you almost did, at first. were even...playing with the air, like they would." They let out a slight chuckle, at that.  
"but then you didn't talk. they don't, sometimes, but...it's far and few between." They nod, swallowing. Even now, they don't feel like speaking. Somehow, they doubt Sans would be able to hear them even in Allspeak, though.  
"Yeah...it happens, kind of frequently, for me. Usually I use Allspeak - but I get the feeling you guys don't have that here?" A stuttering in the petting, before he continues.  
"allspeak?" Clarification.  
"It's...well, it's called different things. That's one of them. It's not a _language_ , I don't think? So much as a _way_ of speaking. It doesn't exist, everywhere. It's, uh...a way for people who can't, say, _talk_ , to get their point across. Sometimes it's words. Sometimes it's pictures. Feelings." They shrug, again.  
"'N then there's the one that _is_ more of a language, 'nd that's..." They yawn.  
"Well, Uncle Grillby doesn't like it. I mean, in some places he does, I guess? But in some places it gives him a headache... so he really doesn't like using it. There's an elemental language, too..." Their head is jerking as they start to relax more. Sans chuckles.  
"c'mon, kid. let's get you somewhere comfortable." They shake their head.  
"I don't want to impose. I can just go home. But I should probably fix whatever sneaking problem you two have..." Another yawn cracks their jaw open. They think he's probably saying something, but can't hear it over said yawn.  
"Sorry?" They mumble. They hear the _skritch_ of bone scratching bone- his head, most likely - before he replies, voice low, as though he's trying not to disturb them from being nearly asleep.  
"kinda curious why you're falling asleep on me, though." They jerk, raise their head. Twitch in embarassment.  
"Sorry," and their voice is colored with it. As usual, they answer with the first thing that pops to mind.  
"...It's just nice to see a friendly face. Honestly." They pause, thoughts swirling a bit.  
"And you remind me of my big brother, a little bit, honestly. He's..." One side of their mouth quirks up.  
"He's a pretty cool guy. He always makes me feel better." How much of that is, y'know, _death-magic-stuff_ , and how much of it is his personality, they have really no clue. And they're probably not special in the least - they're sure everyone gets the same...treatment, they suppose is the closest word they have for it. Maybe not hanging out in the house, though? They dunno.   
They realize they're starting to drift off again, and jump off into the snow. They stumble a bit upon landing, and a hand on their elbow steadies them. They turn their head, blinking.  
"..oh. Thanks," they murmur, surprised.  
When was the last time a Sans voluntarily touched them - did something _kind_  - without either an ulterior motive, or..well, just in general? They blink a few more times. It occurs to them he hasn't released their arm. He seems to realize at the same time they do, eyelights darting to the side and hand dropping.   
"uh...be safe," he tells them. Their head tilts.  
"You too. I'll come back...your tomorrow, to see what I can do. Dunno what time it'll be for me. Probably _also_ tomorrow." His brow furrows at that, looking at them in confusion, so they clarify.  
"Time travel is part of what I do. A _large_ part of it, actually. Then again, I don't think I have anything booked for tomorrow...aw, shoot. I have to watch the kid in the morning. Well, besides that, and it _might_ not be a hindrance?" They  shrug helplessly.   
"Anyway. Toodleoo. Tell Paps I said hi. Or. Uh. Don't, because that wouldn't make any sense to him. Probably. I think? Um, I'm just gonna..." They step backward before turning around and vanishing.  
[Sans stares at the spot where they disappeared for a little while, before putting his hands in his pockets and starting to amble home.]


	8. Snippet: 'Normal'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Written 10 Oct. 2016  
> A brief snippet from Other's everyday life.

You're in the shower- you have a meeting today, other-world wise - when there's a shift. You're so used to them you hardly notice, starting up a conversation with a honey without realizing it.  
He wants to know why you're in his bathroom. Blue is either there the whole time or just joins the two of you, because you suddenly notice him...somewhere by his brother. Of course you would get pulled somewhere five minutes before you have to leave the house. You mention as much before sighing lightly and giving Papyrus the rundown.   
You _could_ leave without solving whatever problem they have, but it would really just be the easiest to tell you what's wrong so you can help them with it, and then you can leave. Otherwise, you'd have to pull up your anchor....  
You end up describing yourself as a multiversal hot air balloon - you go from place to place (wherever the wind blows you, usually.) and when you get to a new world, you're weighed down. You have to cut the ropes and refill the balloon to get anywhere. It's not the _perfect_ simile, but Sans asks if you can really solve their problem.  
You tell him you have to know what it _is_ before you can answer that. He says they have a leaky faucet. That's so very not-what-you-expected that you laugh and pologize for not being a plumber, and ask what else is wrong. No answer is fortcoming, and you really do have to get going. You have one shoe tied and the other on when the message comes that the meeting is cancelled.  
Well. So glad you got up at seven-thirty in the fucking morning and got _dressed_. (You are, actually - stagnation is bad fofr depression, as you know all too well, and you wouldn't have done _either_ of those things if you didn't think you had to leave the house.)  You take off your shoes and ask if they'd really like you to leave.


	9. Asks with Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I thought it would be funny to poke my character with a stick. So I did. (Except, not literally. Now I really want to literally do that, because it would piss Other off.)  
> So! What better way to do that than by giving them questions!  
> Written 17/10/16

Other is in the Void.  
As usual, something interesting happens. Actually, that's quite unusual. The Void is usually where they go to relax.  
Nonetheless, they face this event the same way they do most unexpected things: General suspicion and curiosity. They aren't sure how they feel about random questions being thrown at them, but it's not like they have anything better to do.  
Besides, they're questions they haven't already answered a million times. They get the feeling they're just supposed to address...there's a screen now, uncomfortably showing their reflection. Why do they feel like it's a one-way mirror, and they're the goldfish? They tug at the collar of their shirt, attempting not to visibly gulp. They check the first question.  
*What does Other think of Sans? Are they afraid of Gaster?  
They snort a little at the second. Scratching the side of their head, they shrug at the whole thing and address the mirror, trying not to look their reflection in the eye, because that would be distracting.  
 _What do I think of Sans....that's a tricky one. On the one hand, I love him. Unequivocably. (That's 'irrevocably' and 'unequivocal', which are two words I'm very surprised haven't been combined in the real proper actual dictionary. They are now part of_ my _dictionary.) Jump did - although I'm not really sure if they loved him more like a_ brother? _I get conflicting impressions, sometimes, and it can be hard to tell which is right, if either are.... And I'm pretty sure they still do. We used to be the same person, right? We were that way for a long time. It bleeds over. At least, I'm_ reallllly _convinced it does. I'm not sure how in-depth to go on this question? I mean, obviously, Sans scares the shit out of me. On a regular basis. And as fun as that might be, on it's own - because_ geez _, it's an adrenaline rush - getting...getting attacked by family is painful and not fun and that's all I want to say on the subject.  
Gaster...I dunno. Some of 'em can do reality-bending shit, like Strings. I don't know too much about what they can do, as far as that stuff goes. They probably make me forget; it wouldn't surprise me too much. Am I _afraid _of Gaster...?I'm cautious of him, certainly. But unlike Sans, I can actually_ fight _Gaster. And the odds are on my side, as far as a confrontation goes; even if I die, I can come back. Even if I don't, Other will go and...yeah. Yeah, I'd make sure to come back because Honey or Other will go and investigate....I've been calling Jump 'Other', haven't I. Sorry. Sometimes I mix up our names. And, uh. Other stuff. But, he's not gonna beat me. I won't allow it. Worst comes to worst and it's out of my control?  
....there are a lot of things that could happen. Probably, Honey and Jump would track him down and bad things would ensue. For him, most likely. Still not a risk I'd like to take, but no, I'd say I'm not afraid of Gaster. Some iterations of him do make me _ twitchy _, but I like to think of that as_ survival instincts _._  
They scan the next question.  
 _*_ How did it feel to destroy a world?  
They lock up for a few seconds before sighing.  
 _I guess that would come up, huh. Sorry to disappoint, but....I actually don't remember much of that. It was a long time ago, and....I only had part of the memory to begin with. I'm not even sure if the part I_ do _remember, vaguely, is about destroying it, or the aftermath...? I must've felt very, very self-righteous. Or. At least somewhat self-righteous, and a lot pissed and sad and like I was doing the universe a favor. There were a lot of bad people on that planet, and I_ still _don't understand why I couldn't just RESET and get the kid, or whoever it was that got killed or hurt so badly,_ out _of there. But they must've been killed and beyond what I thought my reach was, because I don't remember exporting anyone?_ They scratch an itch on their forehead. Shrug, eyes down.  
 _S'anyway. Next._  
*Don't you think it's gross, sleeping with an alternate version of yourself?  
Their fists clench, and they stare in disbelief.  
"I fail to see how _my_ sex life is _your_ concern. Furthermore, _no_ , I don't. I frankly don't care. I would have a fucking _orgy_ with _alternate versions of myself_ right next to a pile of fucking brother skeletons. _I don't care_. As long as everybody's consensual - and mature, or intelligent, or what-the-fuck-have-you - enough to _make_ the decision to consent, I don't see any problem with it. The one thing I find a little squicky is cross-generational..." They wave a hand, failing their speech check,and continue.  
"...Things. I mean, it's not them _in_ and _of_ themself, but I find the power balance is largely skewed toward the older generation - and there's just something about parents fucking their kids that I find disagreeable. I mean, it's kind of weird that _that_ would be a hang-up, but not, say, siblings, but..." They shrug again.  
"I react on a case-by-case basis. Those are just my general thoughts on the matter. Every relationship should have equal distribution of power - doesn't matter _what_ kind of relationship. Well, in this case I mean romantic. Normal, vanilla lovebirds? No gender...imbalance. Dom/sub? Even if the dom _has_ all the power, _it's because the sub is letting them_. So. Y'know. Food for thought." Exhale. Reads the next question.  
"Oops. Already answered that one, I guess." They go to the one after it.  
Other stares down in confusion.  
" _Why_....aren't I another person?"  
*Yo! Why aren't you Frisk?!  
Their head tilts and their eyes narrow.  
"I'm not sure I understand the question. In any case. Moving on!"  
*Did Alphys ever...you know...do  _that_ to Teya? (You know...the stuff Gaster did...)  
Their head tilts and eyes narrow further. They speak half under their breath.  
"Very literate, guys." Their eyes roll gently, before they talk out loud.  
"Um. Did Alphys....experiment on us? Yes. Not that I have any memory of it. Just flashes. That's usually how these things work. My memory seems to be getting worse..." Their forehead scrunches, and they seem lost in thought for a few seconds before clapping and pasting a closed smile over their mouth.  
"Anyway! Uh, yes. If you meant unethical-human-experimentation, some Alphys's do. Have. Will." They swirl their eyes and hand.  
"Wibbly-wobbly. All that rot. If it _can_ happen - and, often, even if it _can't_  - it _will_." They pause, struck by something. They squint.  
"I don't know...if you meant a particular Teya? Either way." Their shoulders lift and drop carelessly as they fling the question aside for the next one. Their lip draws up.  
"Now that's just offensive." They look straight at the screen and extend both middle fingers.  
"Amusingly enough, this isn't actually sign language." They do indeed seem mildly amused as they begin to read.  
*What's your real name?  
Their eyes slowly lift to the screen. They half-grin, eyes somewhat flat.  
"Sorry, buckos. That's confidential. Why would I tell you if I won't tell monsters? I like them better than most humans anyway. I mean, no offense. I'm sure some of you are pretty awesome. But, my lips are sealed." They mime zipping them and tucking the key away into a breast pocket they don't have.  
*Who's your favorite monster?  
They bite their lip in thought.  
"That's...kind of tough. I mean, friends and family." They pause for a moment before grinning at the screen.  
"Papyrus, obviously, you loof! I mean, he's a loveable dork with serious morals! I dig that!" They seem to realize this could be tken the wrong way, and make an annoyed face at the screen.  
"And you know _exactly_ what I mean, so don't go starting things. Although, I guess it would depend on the world...? Some Papyrus's aren't very nice - like in different Fell places, obviously. But..." They hum.  
"Yeah, Origin Paps is a sweetie-pie. I figure you're probably talking about Origin?" They brows are furrowed, and they stare at the screen as if it'll answer back for a few seconds before closing and opening their eyes with a shrug.  
"Regardless. I mean," their face scrunches up a bit as they itch their brow,  
"I don't know too many very personally. Uncle Grillbz is pretty awesome. Sanses are anywhere between asshole and sweetest-thing-alive." Their eyes go hazy for a second or two before they shake themself out of it, clearing their throat.  
"A-anyway. Um. Let's...next question." Their brow is still furrowed as they read.  
*Do you really think polygamy is okay?  
Their eyes close.  
"Buddy. I'm going to address this once, and maybe, when I'm in a better mood sometime, I'll answer it a little clearer: It's _none._ Of _your._ **Business**." Their eyes don't open. There's a subtle difference in their features. It melts away slowly as they keep their eyes shut.  
When they open them, they're cheerily bright.  
"Right! I'm done with this, for now! Ta, ta, people of the wherever-the-fuck-you are!" They wiggle their fingers and disappear.


	10. Choice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Other visits Honey.  
> 18/10/16

"Hey, Paps," you murmur, hand on his cheek. An eye opens.  
"hey," he replies. You bend down to nuzzle him, that irritatingly warm, fuzzy feeling making itself at home in your chest. You rub foreheads with him.  
"How's your day going?" Voice not above a croon. He yawns and stretches; you move back a bit to give him space.  
"better now," and it sounds like an admission. You hum, leaning back down to head-butt him gently.   
"Move over," you tell him. He does, and you sit on his lap. How is he so _warm?_ You rub your head against his chest.  
"You're a skeleton. You shouldn't have body heat," you inform him with a slight smile. A hand comes up to knead at your head.  
"you're a human. you shouldn't be able to teleport," he retorts. You snort, conceding the imaginary point. You stretch.  
"I don't _really_ teleport, though. I shortcut, and I blink, but I'm pretty sure that's _different_." You yawn. He's wrapped around you, chin on top of your head. You kind of wish you had  apicture, because it's probably adorable. You hum at him, eyes closing.  
"we gonna go back to sleep?" He asks, only a little teasingly. You huff at him slightly.  
"Dunno. How's the brat been behavin?" He quirks an eyeridge.  
"brat?" You exhale.  
"The kid? The Temmie? Pick one. Pick both." He removes an arm from around you (you make a mild noise of protest) to scratch at his skull. The cold from where he's not surrounding you is starting to get annoying, though.   
You don't want to tell him not to do his job, though. You pull your legs up against your chest and materialise a blanket. He chuckles, then nuzzles against you. You're thoroughly pleased by the reciprocation, and purr for a moment. He raises an eyeridge. After a beat,  
"did i know you could do that?" Your head tilts.  
"Probably. Maybe not. How would I know? 'Sides, it takes effort to purr. If you do it wrong, you get out of breath." It's true. Then again, since when do you lie?  
You're content to relax against him here (relatively content, anyway) but suddenly the both of you are on his bed. You roll off him before wriggling up so you're stomach-down on top of him.  
"Aren't you s'posed to be at work?" He's already smoking.  
"break." You huff and pluck the cigaretter from his mouth, waving it around.  
"Aren't these bad for you?" You ask huffily. You swear you see the corner of his mouth twitch.  
"nah. no lungs." He drawls. You huff huffily, accidentally inhaling some smoke and making a face. You shove it (gently) back in his mouth, huffing a final time.  
"Here. I don't want this," you tell him, sitting up to cross your arms. He chuckles, supporting you with one arm and moving so his back is propped up against the wall. He's careful to blow the smoke away from you. Your eyes soften, just momentarily.  
"What am I going to do with you?" You ask, scolding and fond. You watch him exhale again. You don't really have anything against him smoking, if it isn't bad for him. The only thing you _really_ dislike is when the smell sinks into things and antiquates- not that you can even smell it here, usually. His chin rests on your head again, and you consider telling him that hair is very flammable before deciding not to worry about it. Monster cigs. Probably wouldn't really catch anything on fire.  
"fuck me?" He asks, voice low and a bit raspy and...just a bit needy. You have to reign in your shadow, swallowing.  
"Pretty sure your breaks don't last that long," you reply. Mild disgust, apprehension, and arousal curl together in your gut. You don't think it would be a good idea right now - you'd flashback. You're having a hard enough time staying in the present as it is. When you blink, you see and hear someone else. The sad part is, it's not even about sex. At least, the one you just _saw_ wasn't.   
You shove the thought violently away.  _I'm not there anymore_.  
"you can just say no," he tells you. That gives you significant pause, and it's like you've come up for air.  
You.... _can_ say no. _You can say no_. He won't be upset - he's Honey. He's... _'You mean more to me than sex_.' You curl into him, closing your eyes and holding onto his sweater. He traces a design on the back of your hand, and you wonder what it is. You nuzzle him.  
 _Thank you_ , you tell him.  
"anytime," he murmurs back.  
Sometimes, you forget you can choose.  
The two of you sit in companionable silence until his break ends.


	11. Their family is certainly unconventional.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Other thinks about Death and Anise.  
> 18/10/16

They should probably visit Death some time soon. They wonder if their big brother is missing them. Not that he _really_ is, they suppose, but he hadn't objected when they presented him with the title, and it stuck.  
He feels like a big brother. Paps hadn't even been surprised when they called him their brother for the first time; then again, Anise _is_ their little sister. The god...ess? of painless death. Papyrus, the god of valiant death. Sans...ignominous, and unpleasant endings. Which is not to say that _he_ is ignominous or unpleasant (although he really _could_ be, if he _wanted_ to), but he takes on the hard jobs. So Papyrus doesn't have to. So she doesn't have to.  
Of course, they aren't really sure if Anise doesn't _also_ take the difficult ones on -- oh, the hard cases, _yes_. But the _really_ difficult ones? Sans probably does.  
Anise; painless death. Goddess of Mercy. One snake's bite is akin to morphine; for gods, it sooths pain and can induce sleep. The other is quiet, soothing death. As simple as falling asleep.   
She usually doesn't have the snakes _bite_ people, though. Just taps on them, with whichever intent it happens to be.   
She had been a peace offering for Toriel - the goddess of life was...well, displeased at her work being undone, to say the least. Understandable.  
Other isn't Anise. But sometimes, when they cry, their tears leave numb tracks down their cheeks. That hasn't happened in a while, though it used to happen pretty often.


	12. Cravings/Stranger things have, and will, happen.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHA  
> 'I'm never writing mpreg,' says author.  
> 'That's IDIOTIC,' says author.  
> . . .  
> Right.

_Well. Just when you think things can't get stranger_.  
Other managed to get Honey pregnant. 'N not with a normal, y'know, monster-human baby  
Naw. _Had_ to be a little shadow.  
Their instincts are fucking _thrilled_. ( _Their mate_ , pregnant with _their child_.)  
They'd still like to know whether the shit they know is because of their _dear Aunt_ (they still aren't sure how to feel about her) or if it's honestly instinctual?  
They were shit-useless when they first learned, for...oh, at least an hour. They tried to take care of Honey, but they were still trying to process 'nd figure out if they really _had_ gottten him pregnant the monster way, while denying it strenuously to anyone who mentioned it.   
There's _no way_ they would've intended that, not more than as a passing fancy. It would be irresponsible. It wouldn't be fair to the kid. It wouldn't be fair to _Honey_.  
They're half-convinced it's actually a parasite of some sort. (Then again, maybe a passing fancy is all you need. They're pretty sure it isn't, with monsters, though - you have to _make_ the child.  
You know you're pregnant - or _getting there_ \- from the moment it starts happening.) They end up carrying part of it, but that seems to be more from an energy side? They aren't quite sure.  
A doctor is called over to make sure it isn't  _dangerous_ , because fuck if they won't _get rid of this thing if it's hurting their mate_. That leaves them feeling a little empty. But if it is their child - and not some sort of parasite - they...well. They need to know, so they can plan.  
Honey is drained. It grew - is growing? -  strangely fast.  
They have a purpose now; to transfer energy to him. (They feel rather bad about impregnating him. That has nothing to do with giving him energy - that's their job. They're the non-carrier - giving him what he needs to ensure the survival of their progeny -and himself- is essential. Making him happy is secondary, and not so much a concern as his health right now. Mostly because they're still sort of numb, the only thing guiding them instinct. They can't even feel him.)  
They do ask if he'd rather they carry it.   
(They don't say it, but if he never wants to see the child again, he doesn't have to. They can raise it alone, or...well, they could raise it very quickly. In a matter of weeks, if they had to. It would put quite a strain on their magic, however. And they don't like that idea very much, for numerous reasons..)  
At one point, staring at the portion in them and the part in him, he asks if they're having twins.  
They don't know. It's possible, but they don't think so. The child is green in Honey - but not bright, the way a child's SOUL should be. It's odd.  
In them, it's blue. Not bright like patience, but not dark enough to be indigo...?  
They ask the doc if the kid is damaging to Honey.  
No, she says.   
Well. She's the doctor. (Honey had said he was fine, he _was fine_  - they didn't believe him, of course.) They asked, to make sure, if it wasn't some kind of parasite. The good doctor had given them a look and asked _what_ they thought children were. So. Yeah. Kid. _Not_ a-well, a parasite, but in the kid way, not...  
At some point, they explained that staying still (feeling trapped) was driving them crazy.  
His eyes lit up in understanding, and it was suddenly much easier to stay. _He understood_.   
-  
Food. He wanted food.   
They can do that. Nothing in the fridge besides tacos. They sniff.   
Edible, but they aren't serving _edible_ to their mate. They didn't even _make_ it.  
How to _improve_ it...? They don't want to take too long (time travel is irrelevant - they need to be with him, caring for him, who knows what'll happen if they step out) which precludes making something from scratch.  
How to improve the taco?  
  
They don't know _where_ they get them from (let alone the idea), but spider legs it is. They'd been thinking.  
Y'know.  
Spices.   
But this works too.  
  
Honey tears into it, eyes lighting up and dimming at the same time. They (somewhat nervously) explain that they thought he'd probably like some meat but knew he didn't eat anything with a skeleton 'cause it freaked him out, so they figured spiders -  
His face twists (instincts warring with preferences warring with the instincts that _are his_ ) as he says _he wants something crunchier than spiders_. They go down a mental list - they could add taco shell, or crackers -  
Meat. He wants meat. Their Honey. Meat, and _bones to crunch_. His words.   
They're mildly pleased to be able to provide, through the blankness. They half-expect him to say he's joking, to rescind the request. Looking kind of horrified and disgusted at himself, he doesn't. They bring down at deer, careful not to leave shards of claw or tooth in it. They don't even puncture it. _Only the best for my mate_ , they think, near purringly. They're still sort of blank, but not as badly.   
They don't know how to skin a deer. Turns out it's unnecessary.  
He tears into it. The doctor - who stayed, possibly because this hasn't happened before, the whole _monster birthing a shadow_ thing, and they're curious, or worried - seems enthralled. And quite possibly nauseous. (It's probably a good thing monsters don't throw up from being grossed out.)   
They maintain physical contact with him as he eats, knowing he'll remember this later and be upset.  
He'll be less upset when he snaps out of it, with their touch grounding him _now_. Hopefully. (They're going on instinct, and it's been right about everything else.)   
They aren't sure what happens to the rest of the deer. Or how he gets cleaned up, or what exactly happens after he's done eating.   
They skip forward almost accidentally to meet the child, who is _shadowed, like them_ , but openly. A little skeleton, with a big round skull, covered in dark that shifts and moves like living smoke. It's quite young. It can already speak, though, at least enough to say 'Ma' and 'Da' when they ask who Honey is, and who they are, to see what it will say.  
Yes, this is their progeny. They'll train it well. It will be protected, and learn early on not to bite people. That's their main 'concern', in-so-much as they have any at the moment.  
Honestly, they're a bit tired. As in, _very_ , and they're wondering if maybe that's why they're sort of flat.   
After a bit, they go back to him. He asks what the child is like. ' _Shadowed_ ,' they reply, pleased. ' _They take after me_.' They go into a little more detail.  
Eventually, they can't stay in one place anymore. They try. Oh, they try.  
But it's driving them up a wall. So they leave, feeling bad that they aren't _staying_ , but worse at being there and _useless_.  
They're not any good to him in this state.  
_  
They come back, crawl onto his lap.   
"'D the doctor leave?" They murmur into his hoodie. He hums. They nuzzle apologetically.  
"Sorry," they whisper.  
"I just didn't want to be here and useless, which I was. It was driving me nuts to stay in one place." Fingers tangle through their hair.  
"you weren't," he replies. _Useless_ , he means.  
"and i know you need to _move_." They sigh against him.  
Something's wrong, but they don't  know what.  
"...I haven't even apologized for getting you pregnant yet, have I." He blinks, seeming a bit surprised.  
"nope." They reach up to nose his cervical vertebrae.  
"Sorry I got you pregnant, love. Though, I have to say, my instincts are _pretty damn happy about it_. It's annoying." They snort at themself, hesitate before pressing a kiss on his neck. He hums accord, seeming tired, still pulling his phalanges through their hair.  
"You need anything? _Want_ anything?" They ask quietly, and this time it isn't the instincts speaking.  
"you," he replies. They cuddle further.  
"I think I can do that," they respond. The nervousness is coming up again, but they squish it down. They nose his jaw.  
"It's time to sleep soon, where I am. What time is it here?" He takes a moment to reply.  
"about the same." They hold onto handfuls of his sweater to ground themself. They've been thinking.  
They've been thinking a lot.  
"I don't know if this is a stable timeline," they tell him. He goes still in the way that one who's listening very hard does.  
So they continue.  
"It has some of the elements of one that is, but it also contradicts future data. You've been acting strange, _I've_ been acting strange - granted, that might be the baby." They pause.  
"But it contradicts massively this _whole down-the-road timeline_ , where our firstborn is a girl - well, kind of; I'm not sure I even understand their gender, or whether it's fixed? - and mostly a skeleton and she's bossy and a green, sweet SOUL, and if there's any shadow in her - or her little brothers, who are twins - I can't find it.   
This kid? This kid is _nothing like them_. He - it? - is a skeleton, sure. But he's _covered_ in dark. He's _something else_ as much as I ever am, and I'm worried about whether....he'd grow up to be _moral_. _Dangerous_. I didn't even feel like myself around the kid - and whether that's cause I was loopy, or what..." Honey twirls strands of their hair in his fingers.  
"I wasn't protective of them like I am... _anyone_. I mean, if somebody tried to hurt'em, I woulda taken care'a it. But I didn't have resting mojo. I _always_ have resting mojo. I just don't know..." They shake their head.  
"And that's totally aside from the fact that we're neither of us ready to have a young one on our beck and call. Granted, I could do it - I wouldn't have to worry about them getting hurt. It's just not something I'm _concerned_ with - I'd take them gentle places, but...shadow kids are a lot _sturdier_ than monster ones. I'd not get into fights with them, obviously, but they're not fragile.   
I could take them to work with me, and not just...leave them at home with you. Which isn't at _all_ fair. And they already _are_ the worst part of me......well, genetically, at least." They frown as they shake their head.  
"I don't know. You just didn't seem... _happy_. An' maybe that's cause I showed up and was all blank and weird an shit. I'unno. But maybe it was cause there's somethin wrong with the kid. Somethin I can' fix." There's quiet for a little while.  
"....you want to abort." His voice is soft, and it feels like the calm before the storm. They wince immediately.  
" _No_." They clutch closer to him, to the SOUL held in his own.  
"No," they repeat, softer. (Even the thought of,  _yes, essentially, aborting_ , has their stomach clenching in guilt and...they almost decided to do it. Without even asking him.  
But they can't make that decision. Even...well. He's the carrier. It's _his_ choice, because he's the one who'll be most affected. If they had to choose, they don't know what they would do, honestly, besides probably crash and burn in some spectacularly fucked-up manner.)  
"I don't want to abort. I want to know if you think I should make it like this _never happened_. Or go back and warn you that I can make you pregnant without meaning to. We don't _know_ that, for certain, but it's the theory I'm going off of. So we'd be careful, and not have a kid. I'm betting there's a _reason_ it's half-shadow, and not anything else. It must've been that one time," and he looks away. 'That one time'- the one time _they_ fucked _him_.  
It was rather pleasant, and they'd like to do it again, but haven't gotten around to it quite yet.  
"yeah," he agrees softly.  
"it must've." They don't know what they've said wrong. They want to reassure him, but don't know _how_ to.  
"Tell me what you're thinking, love. What's upsetting you?" A hand strokes their cheek.  
"...unstable. as in, it might collapse?" They hesitate. Nod.  
"then you should get out." They exhale, not expecting this.  
"It wouldn't affect me. Not permanently, anyway. If it collapses, it's usually like it never was to begin with. Ergo, I wasn't _there_ when it stopped...being. There are loopholes, I'm sure." A pause.  
"....could you take me out?" And it's blunt, and they know what he's asking. They hesitate.  
"Yes, and risk the collapse of wherever you go." And it's a big risk, depending a lot on the inherent stability of any particular world. Imports shake them enough when they're _normal_.  
They inhale.  
"So. We can continue like this, or...I can close the loop. This will never have happened, and you won't remember any of it. Or - I can make it so you do, but it _still_ hasn't happened. I can VETO. I can go back and stop us.   
We can wait, and see what happens." They pause to rub the top of their head against his collarbone.  
"The choice is up to you." They wait, but not for long.  
"how sturdy is this world?" Their head tilts.  
"Mm...not very. Can't you feel it?" It fluctuates. It's been getting better, especially the more they focus on Honey.  
They could make it solid, could make it stick. It's within their means.  
But they need to know if he thinks it's _worth it_ , first.  
"Do you want to keep the baby?" They ask, blunt. He shakes his head.  
"not if it means destruction of the universe." Their breath huffs out.  
"That's not _quite_ how it works. Just because _you_ wouldn't exist, doesn't mean _you_ wouldn't. It would just...be one branch that terminated." A beat.  
"I could make it solid. I can do that, maybe not _easy_ , but I can do it. But this isn't _my_ decision to make. It's kind of a time-sensitive one, though, even if I hate to rush you." The world shimmers around them, working between solidifying and tipping precariously on the knife's edge simultaneously.  
"keep it. the child. we made it. we're responsible." His words are out in a rush. Their eyebrows are raised.  
"Are you sure? It would never have been _concieved_. At this point, it's barely even a person, right?" They know that's wrong. _Innaccurate_. They go on before he can correct them.  
"It would never have been _made_. It would feel no pain. It simply _wouldn't be_ , in the same place it was before it _was_. The same place all unmade things are." That half-awake place of shadows and darkness and groggy partial light, streaming in through open windows.  
He nods.  
"i'm sure." There's conviction in his voice. They suck in a breath.  
"One other thing. Our other children...what about them? I honestly don't know if this will affect them _existing_. Who, or how they are. Whether they'll even _be_. And I'm afraid to lose them." His forehead presses against theirs, slowly.  
"i'm afraid to lose this one," he confesses.  
Well. That's that.  
They'll just have to make enough room in the world for all of them.  
It's a big multiverse, anyway. Hmm. Their voice is soothing.  
"I can do a few things. I can split your path so a different you still has them with me. That'll happen anyway, I s'pose, but if I don't do it _now_ , like _this_ , it might be harder for me to get to them. It might be out of my 'territory', so to speak. The other way..." There was another way. Why are they forgetting it? Oh.  
"The other way is to just keep...going forward. Try to have them _then_ , as we did the first time. I was there for the boy's conceptions and the firstborn's birth, so they should be....well. Unravelling them would have _widespread_ consequences, ripplewise. They aren't _fixed points_ , by any means, but they're rather important, and relatively strong. I can _feel_ the children more often than I can feel you, Honey. It's odd. But I'm grateful for it." He clears his throat.  
"the first. we can do the second, but it's good to be cautious, right?" He sounds a bit heartbroken, and they wonder if it's because he's afraid an alternate version of them is....also theirs? They don't know. They nuzzle him.  
"What's wrong," they ask. His voice is strained.  
"i can feel it now," he replies. They make a humming sort of noise, before deciding they should maybe focus.  
Honey's here. They're going to have a hybrid, shadow-skeleton child. This world _can't_ fade or shatter, and any inconsistencies in character are easily explained by the presence of instinct and lack of sleep - both of them suffer from the latter, and due to the child, it's Other's theory that Honey is something of a makeshift shadow while pregnant.  
A scary thought, is what it should be.  
It's not. (Despite this, the world eddies around them.)  
They snap it off like a piece of bark from a branch.  
There. A parallel timeline. (They waters stabilize, flowing with a burble at first over the new obtrusion.) Now to settle this one.  
The child will be near-grown by the time they have Katy, if not _full_ -grown. If they aren't kicked out of the house for being...unsavory, or killed outright or imprisoned (by another shadow, by a Judge...whatever might happen) they'd as like not live with Honey and Jump, anymore.   
They'd had Katy when Other was somewhere between thirty and forty...something.  
Eighteen now. That leaves _plenty_ of space.  
So much space, they wonder at it. _Thirty-three_. That's the earliest they could have Katy, if to account for the fact that _this_ child would leave the house at eighteen. Thirty-four or five, more likely, if not later.   
They nod at him.  
It's quite doable.  
...come to think of it, maybe this is why Katy gave them odd looks sometimes when they mentioned some things, like being their first child.   
...Of course, the kid could simply have gotten their shadow under control and not been exuding. _Duh_. It's not as though they go that far ahead often, and usually it's to see Honey, specifically. They've only really met with the children in snatches, just a few times properly.   
...Hell. They missed _Jump_ being a shadow. Why couldn't they miss another? (Albeit, Jump _is_ a huge blind-spot for them. They could be downright genocidal and Other wouldn't...they'd be in pretty damn deep denial.)  
"Bed," they murmur. He mutters back at them, already asleep, it seems. They rumble contentedly at that, their mate trusting them enough to resolve things that he would just...drift off.  
That, or really, really tired. (The threads of reality twist, just a little, and they straighten them out like a preening mother.)   
They ignore the voice that says they shouldn't teleport right now, then reconsider. Picking him up is easy. He's warm and soft and solid in their arms, and they carry him upstairs to the door on the right, setting him down on the bed. It's a mattress on the floor, bare but for the sheet which is made surprisingly neatly. They huff, examine the blankets with their magic, and find them wanting. They turn to get clean ones from the closet. A hand on their wrist, lightly holding, stops them. His eyes have smoke over them, though they can't honestly tell how much of it is shadow and how much is his magic or theirs. Some of it doesn't seem orange.  
"don't go," quietly. They take hold of it with their other hand, eyes closing as they kiss the backs of his fingers.  
"I want to get you clean blankets. Those ones feel dirty." He grimaces, relaxes his arm so it slides down. They puff a breath, head back out to the hall to fetch a few comforters.  
It can't hurt. (They don't know how he likes to nest, but this is a perfect opportunity to find out.  
Because of course he nests. He _has_ to.  
That's not a shadow instinct speaking, and they don't know about it.) They return to find him half-curled on his side, arms near his head.  
Why is he so damn _adorable?_ It's not a _puppy_ kind of adorable, or the way Blue is. He's always big, always _Pap_. But sometimes he's softer, or sharp in a different kind of way, and...  
They close the door softly behind them, and he rolls his head to watch them.  
"I didn't know how you liked your nests," they softly fill the silence. He sits up as they step forward, hands outstretched for the materials. They extend them.  
His eyesocket glows, and there's a quiet  _crack_ , and suddenly, _boom!_ Nest.  
Lazy. They grin at him a bit, eyes half-lidded. He returns a similar expression before holding his arms out for _them_.  
They oblige, cuddling into his front. A blanket is pulled over their back, and they sigh in appreciation at being taken care of. They nuzzle him.  
"Anything else you need?" He nuzzles back.  
"just you," he replies. Something nudges in their memory.  
"Does Blue know yet?" They murmur. His eyes widen, and he pulls out a phone. A few seconds later, it disappears.  
"he does now." They snort.  
"That gives us, what? Twenty seconds to sleep before he's...how's he going to react to this? "Probably scolding," they figure, neither plussed nor non.  
"probably scolding," he agrees.  
"he's always wanted to be an uncle, though." They frown.  
"We'll have to teach the kid not to bite, and _fast_. Somebody like him? It could _wreck_ him. I don't even know what it _does_ , but I don't want shadow poison in that sunny little system." He snorts.  
"but you're fine with it being in _mine_." They chatter, shortly.  
"No. I _don't_ like it being in yours. I'm hoping it's just instinctual, from the pregnancy. That it'll pass. The bite _shouldn't_ , I think, have done anything to you, beyond..." They groan.  
"It's a mate thing. To claim you as _mine_. I was part-shadow at the time, and it recognizes you as _friend, not food_. Don't worry, it's a reference. Sorry. Utterly shameless joke for the guy who hasn't seen the movie." They smirk at him, sticking their tongue out briefly. He snaps his teeth gently, nowhere near biting it. They jerk back, mock-surprised (actually surprised, though not threatened or anywhere near enough to react so) and blinking theatrically.  
"Why, you _cheeky_ little thing, you." He grins, intentionally showing most of his visible teeth.  
"don't you mean _toothy?_ " They grin in return.  
"I don't know. Is that what you would pick if we played _tooth or dare?_ " He makes a surprised sort of 'ha', happy, and they're pleased with that.  
" _tooth_ be told, i'm more of a _daredevil_." They grimace.  
"I just _used_ that one, you _toothless numbskull_." They rap on his head with their knuckles gently. He chuckles out of acknowledgement.  
" _den't_ get all _toothy_ about it," he replies.  
 _"Oooooh_ , you _mouthy_ git," they respond, grinning. They sigh, shifting their head.  
"I'm out. You?" His smile grows.  
"i could _denture_ , but _bi-cus-spid_ them out all day." It takes them a few moments to get that one, before putting their hand out for a congratulatory high-five.  
" _Nice_ ," they comment.  
" _laterally_ ," and they whack him. .... _Literally?!_  
" _That's not even how you use that word!!_ " They half-shout, extremely exasperated.  
"i know." And they groan-smile.  
They hate it. They _soooo, sooo_ hate it.  
They're smiling, and they know it. Resistance is futile.  
They cuddle up to him.  
"Let's go to sleep before Blue gets here," they murmur. After a few moments, they yawn.  
"It really is getting late where I am." He hums noncommittally. Their eyes close. After a few seconds.  
"You sure you don't need anything?" A moment's pause. He's stroking their back, his own against the wall, half-slouched. They consider reprimanding his posture, but don't. It's too comfortable. Blue will, 'nyway.  
"nah," and he shifts a little.  
"got what i need right here." They make a noise. Their voice is only three-quarters conscious.  
"Blue isn't here yet," they respond. He hums agreement to that, clanks a kiss to their forehead.  
"he will be. go to sleep. and stay here."  
They'll try.  
"If he tries to wake me up, I'm stabbing him with a fork," they warn sleepily. He gives them a raised-eyeridges surprise-confusion look, but both of them know they don't actually mean it.  
He puts a hand on the nape of their neck anyway, pressing down just that little bit, and they shiver in excitement. _Dammit, Honey_.  
"don't threaten my brother, doll." They huff at that.  
"Wouldn...dream of i'..." Their eyes are closing again. He rubs the back of their neck and they shiver again, before making a sound between a keen and a protest.  
He rumbles in amusement before clanking them on the forehead.  
"alright, alright. i'll let you sleep," he sounds entirely too amused. Oh, they'll get him for this.  
Probably. Maybe. In the morning.  
-  
Morning comes.  
"It's weird, you being the pregnant one. Usually it's me." His zygomatics color.  
"you mean..." They nod.  
"Yup. With Katy and the boys." He flushes further. What?  
"Did you figure you were _always_ the carrier?" They rub their thumb soothingly against bone.  
"Not that I would _mind_." Their voice rumbles.  
"It's...I rather _like_...you carrying my young," as they nuzzle him, hesitant at saying this.  
-  
  
The next time they bring him a deer, he's more himself - and more than a little nauseated. It's a good thing skeletons don't, ah. _Puke_ , normally, because otherwise that meat would've gone to waste, not even to _mention_ how miserable it would make him.   
They give him the deer before realizing there will most likely be a _horrendous_ mess, and pull a blue tarp from...somewhere (they aren't buggered about _where_ ) and putting that under it. They made sure not to bite or scratch this one, either, and it should taste good, but it isn't the _best_ buck. If they hunted the best, and only the best, the next generations would be sub-par; besides, they rationalize, he won't care. It won't affect the taste of the meat, they hope.  
They still feel guilty for not giving their mate _the best_ , but sustainability is important.   
They snapped it's neck and brought it to him while it was still warm.  
Emotions are still difficult - and normally he would help them with that, but helping _him_ , making sure he has what he needs (what the baby needs; Honey would not touch meat otherwise) is their job at the moment. Young shadows grow quickly, and require a lot of energy.  
He eats about half of the deer before pulling back. They ask what they should do with it; they figured to leave it in the woods aboveground somewhere for the scavengers. He says to save it for late, so they bundle it up in the tarp and blip outside.   
At someone's odd look, they say, 'Meat.' When that doesn't cause them to desist, they hold their fist over their heart.   
'Meat. It's not a person, I promise.' They continue staring for a few seconds, before shaking their head and continuing on, looking a bit hollowed. Other buries the deer in the snow by the back door; that will keep it fresh, they think. The problem will be heating it when Honey wants to finish it. Then again, maybe it won't matter? They aren't sure.   
The blip back to him. Still having a hard time emoting, focusing, but they're trying to not be smug and useless and _useless_.  
Sedate him, because he's very close to vomiting (they didn't know they could do that. Interesting.), ask if he'd like them to take it off. He declines, albiet a bit hesitantly.  
They carry him to the shower, because he's a mess, their mate, covered in blood and maybe other internal fluids - they aren't a biologist - and they consider how to get the bloodstains out of his hoodie.  
They find some stain remover, apply it, and hope for the best. They should've known better - should've known it would be messy and....what? Gotten him into clothes he didn't care about? Maybe. Either way.  
They pull his other clothes off, not so worried about them - the sweater probably got the brunt of it, the shorts are black, and that's if he even _cares_ about these clothes. They're more invested in getting _him_ clean, because he doesn't like having the blood on him.  
It's difficult to remove blood from the indents and joints of his phalanges. They ask, after a bit of near-futile attempting to clean them with a washcloth, if they can use cleaning magic on him. He's still limp and tired-seeming from the calming. His teeth they wipe off more easily, but not before licking some of the blood off to reassure him.  
Mostly, they were afraid he would throw up the meat. That would traumetize him, they're fairly sure. And he needs it, for the baby. He assents. They clean him much more _efficiently_ , settling him down carefully on the floor of the shower and stepping out to get a towel for him; they don't want him to be cold in the time between when the water turns off and when he's dry.   
They fetch the fluffy white towel, turn the shower off absently, and hold him up to dry him off. He shivers.   
They blip them both to his room, finish (hopefully satisfactorily) drying him, and try to find his clothes. He isn't much help, obviously not feeling well, and they wish they knew how to make him feel better, but they think he will once he's clothed, and that they can do.  
They're still worryingly blank, but they aren't important right now. The one carrying their child is.  
"Blue?" They ask him.  
"I didn't know you had a blue hoodie," they tell him.  
"blue got it for me," he responds, absent. They aren't sure how much of that is...the sedative, and how much is... _trauma_ , for lack of a better word. They'll have to come up with a better way of getting the meat into him. Cutting it into chunks, maybe? It still has to be raw, at this stage, but he might feel better if he weren't _tearing into it_.   
They'd been trying to let his instincts do their thing, presenting him the fresh kill, but maybe he'd feel better overall if they shunted that a _little_ to make the process less messy?   
Something to think about. They'll try it. How hard can carving up a deer be? (Probably very, but magic is _so useful_ with this sort of thing; they just hope they don't fuck up too badly.)   
They'd turned Blue away at some point while he was feeding, the sounds filling up the living room.  
They'd locked the door when he tried to enter. 'You don't want to come in here right now, Blue.'  
'Do I want to know what's going on?' They'd thought.  
'No, probably not. I can tell you later, if you like. I'll text you when it's safe to come in. You should go to Alphys's or something in the meantime.' He'd assented, though not very _happily_ , and they'd returned their attention to Honey.  
They should go clean up, make sure Blue could come back in without freaking out. They voiced the thought, and he'd sort of gripped them and told them not to go.   
Idiot them. Even if they were right back, they'd still have been gone. Duh.   
They use magic to open the windows downstairs. It will make the house cold for a bit, but it's better than the smell of a kill, they imagine.  
Blue would have a fit if he came in and it smelled like that. They don't want to displease him.   
They work on finding Honey pants.   
Of course, there's something....he doesn't smell like _them_ now. They'd love to see him in their clothes, but they think he wouldn't like that. It would be too territorial, perhaps. And that's if they found ones that _fit_.   
They hang their lynx claw around his neck instead, pleased. Now he has something of _them_ , and it doesn't disrupt being able to wear his own things. He seems happy about it, which makes them happy.  
Eventually they manage to find a pair of shorts for him, then message Blue (they tell Honey what they're doing, of course) that it should be safe to come back. Blue blips in soon after (they're surprised; they didn't think Blue could do that?) and is _not_ happy about Honey's state. They ask him with their eyes, and he nods, so they take the calming off him.   
They're not pleased with Blue coming in and being riley when Honey clearly needs rest, not yelling people. They defend themself clumsily - they can argue with him _later_ about it. Right now, Honey needs to be made to feel better, not...involved in a debate.   
Blue doesn't seem to think they have his best interests at heart, which is _absurd_ , because _what else have they been doing_? They _asked_ if he wanted _them_ to carry it, instead (at this point, they don't think they could transfer it anymore, however. And they gave back what they had to Honey, because the energy...it took more from them than it _needed_ , basically, because they weren't _supposed_ to be the carrier. Little glutton.) of him having to. They brought him meat.  
They've stayed with him as best they could for the last _two days!_ That's an _unheard of_ amount of time for them to stay focusing on one place - granted, they haven't been there the _whole_ two days, but they've been doing their best!  
They know he doesn't like these new instincts. But they've been doing the best they can to reassure him, to explain what they know, to make him feel _safe_ and _calm_ and _happy_ , which is hard when you can barely feel anything yourself! Not that they realize this at the moment - they still aren't much present, mentally, emotionally.   
They manage to get Blue to simmer down only because Honey tells him to (so, _they_ don't, really) but Honey seems _exhausted_ and they don't know what they can do for him, because what he needs is comfort  and... in this state, they're _shit_ at that.   
Jump pops in, of course. Other tells them (because they're about as shadow as they are, at the moment) that they can't let shadows near him. He doesn't like shadows. This being after they almost offered to share him (because they _are_ mates, and he is Jump's, too. Shadow culture can be a bit mystifying to them, but their consent on this is rather important, it seems.)   
He tiredly tells them _I can hear you, you know_  and Other grins sheepishly.  
They do have to leave, though, get out of Jump's way so they can comfort him. They go.


	13. Archeology - Part one

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're unearthing the past.  
> Or trying to, anyway. It's much too easy to get distracted when you're scared as hell about what you're going to find....and, y'know. In general.

There are a lot of things they don't know.  
How the hell they ended up being Swap's sub, for one. They don't remember _that_ , just know they showed up there one day and that's how it was -- and he was a _good_ dom, so they came back. They recall _meeting_ him and calling him a brat, because they've _heard_ of swapfell and it is a _shithole_ , but he was actually....  
...nice. Surprisingly mature. Kind of a lot like Fell, actually. Which. Is _another_ thing they don't know - how _that_ bloody relationship happened. They don't even know his LV. They don't know _any_ of their LVs, and they're kind of twitchy and paranoid about being betrayed (by Fell, by Honey not really existing, by _what have you_. The only one they really _don't_ doubt is Boss, Swap, because they've gone there before so many times and he takes such good care of them. He takes good care of Grit, and Tessa, and they love both of them, too, ambiguously, almost the way they love Jump.)  
And that's another thing. Jump. Who went from being this sweet - not _innocent_ , per se, but very _vanilla_  - person to...a shadow, basically.  
It feels like they've skipped from the third chapter in a book to the seventeenth. _Nothing_ makes sense. Honey doesn't make sense. _They_ don't make sense.   
They're trying to put together a picture, but so many of the pieces are from _different puzzles_ or  just outright _missing_. The last time they tried to delve into their past, there were _disastrous_ consequences.  
This time, if the other Papyrus shows up, they're going to ignore him. They need to see for themself. And, honestly...  
..it couldn't have just been their imagination. A hallucination. And if it were....well. It's not like their head is ever anywhere _but_ the clouds. They don't want to pretend, but unless they have actual proof, they can't go _second-guessing_ the _life_ they've built (well, that they see they've built...in the future. Will build?) - that's so, so much worse than hallucinating, and....it's like the summer madness, second-guessing and twitching and checking over their shoulder about something they _can't_ know.  
So they'll go off the basis that everything is real, and if they have data (actual, concrete data, not some possible cruel asshole trying to bend their view of reality and drive them nuts) that contradicts it, they'll reevaluate. As it is, they keep the guy as _possible_ information, but not reliable.   
So. Time....to go back, they guess.  
Time to see themself meet Honey, again. Or. Well. Go to where they left off.  
_  
.....Wow. I really got fucked up. Here's the relevant piece of the case file, anyway;  
__  
We were...bedraggled, to say the least. Our hair was an absolute mess - much longer than I tend to keep mine.   
(....I'm kind of reconsidering how short I keep it. It looks way better about shoulder length and ragged. I think I'll start growing mine out again.) Very messy. And. Well, I can't see or smell to know if we needed a shower.  _Did_ we used to have to shower? ...probably.   
We appear out of no-where. Jumper looks around (it's weird to think of an entity that doesn't... _exist_ , at this very second.) and spots Honey. Immediately, the curiosity is apparent.  
"You're new," she/they note, and it's obvious in their voice, too. They also sound friendly. He dropped his cig when they appeared.  
"....speak for yourself." [It's familiar, just...a tug of memory.] My own mouth curves up at that. Jumper laughs genuinely, just a bit. A smile graces them, but there's a shadow behind the bright in their eyes.  
They're tired. I remember being that...worn-out, but still kind of hopeful.  
The hopeful must've come from Jump, cause I've never been much of an optimist. He unfurls himself slowly from where he was leaning against the counter, and there's the briefest flinch from them.  
So we were afraid, back then. Of him. Of  _course_ we would be, every other Sans we met attacked us, and he  _clearly_ wasn't....a  _Papyrus_ , as such. Something dark flashed across his expression and stayed, and we fiddled with our fingers, gaze and head down like a child awaiting punishment.  
"you, uh...okay there, kid?" We wouldn't have been able to see his face, of course - I don't think we saw that way. It's strange that the memories have already faded...That's probably not natural.   
So we could only hear his voice. Cautious, but unthreatening. They watch his feet with their head down ( _fat lot of good that'll do you, if he decides to teleport_ , I think sardonically.) so when he takes a step forward - probably to try and comfort them, or, hell knows what - they flinch back a step, one hand raising defensively.  
Their expression....they're very near terrified. How broken are we? I thought it was just  _me_. When did I forget that Jump was afraid, too? Did she make me forget? Did I forget on my  _own_?  
...maybe I just always thought I was the only one who was actually afraid. Or maybe, she was being brave for me, when we found out we were two-people-in-one. I don't think she used to be taller than me, either.  
They aren't crying, not yet, but I think they're probably kind of scared of...well. If  _Sans_ hurts, just imagine  _Papyrus_ attacking you. He's probably a lot stronger, for one thing. And.... _Papyrus_. Papyrus had always been...our safe person. Maybe not in the  _really_ bad places - some Horrors, and Fells - but...for the most part? He would give us a chance, when Sans wouldn't.  
And here, in this cheery little world, was a Papyrus who seemed just as like to attack us as not. My throat feels tight, so I swallow.  
He stiffens, realization dawning across his face, and he steps back, audible in the snow. A hand finds the counter before he props himself back up on it, slouching again.  
To make us feel safe. He didn't want to be threatening. There's something soft - and something...a little too like he's looking at himself, like maybe he...was in our place, once, or more than once. His pose is obviously affected, but they seem simultaneously grateful and surprised, almost stunned. ...Kind of numb, maybe. They look that level of tired, all of a sudden. His throat clears, and for a split-second any relaxation is gone, a deer-in-the-headlights look in their eyes as their head snaps up, but it passed just as quickly, and the only indication he even saw it is a slight shift to the side, as if getting comfortable, and just the tiniest wince.  
Why would he wince? He didn't know us then. Was Honey really that....sympathetic? Why would he   _c a r e?_  
. . . Well. They're just staring at each other. Eventually, Jumper starts to shift in place a little, feet scuffing and hands fidgeting with long sleeves - and it's at that point I realize  _they're barefoot_ and wonder if they feel the cold. He notices as well, apparently, because a look of concern flashes across his face. He starts to stand but corrects himself before he's gotten far.  
They don't wince, that time.  
 _Progress_. His throat clears again, though a lot more quietly, and he asks,  
"aren't you cold?" They blink, head coming up and apparently wondering why he's asking. It's written all over them. (We really are an open book, aren't we?) He elaborates, throat clearing once more and head turning a few times as if he's not sure...how to phrase it? Is he uncomfortable? He shifts a little, too. He's not looking at us.  
He doesn't think we're a threat?  
"i mean, you're barefoot. in snow. i know the cold  _goes right through me_ , but, uh -" They're covering their mouth with one sleeve. I can see the brightness in their eyes again-you don't have to see their mouth to know they're smiling at that godawful pun.  
Hell, I would've laughed if I wasn't feeling wretched right now, and how many times have I heard it?  
  
And then the other guy comes in and fucks with my head. Ugh. Or.   
Well, how much of that was fever?  Anyway.  
...I'll go on the other side of the clearing, make a little bubble. Not quite in the Void, as much.  
I don't want company. I just want to watch.  
  
I almost land in the snow out of habit before pulling back, _rolling_ back, and making myself a nice little bubble in the trees. Jump asks what I'm doing, through the link, and I say _remembering. Hush_. I don't know if I want company. I feel kind of empty and alone, but...I want to see what happened, without being distracted. Without being biased by someone else's perspective.  
 _Rude_ , she replies, and I sigh and pause the world. I'll have to roll back again.  
 _Not like that. I'm trying to remember how we met Honey. ...Sorry._  She/they hum thoughtfully.  
 _-Want company?-  
Not sure, honestly. _Another hum  
 _-Well, you're getting it.-  
Jump!   
-I thought you said you didn't know?- _A kiss is pressed against my temple, and I mutter and shift.  
 _I didn't. But you're distracting.  
-We could meld.-  
I want to see this on my own. I want to know _my _reactions. I...want to do this as an individual.  
....I hope that's okay_. I'm terribly afraid of having offended them, but they just kiss my forehead again.  
 _-That was all you had to say, love. Call me when you want to be together again. I've missed you, and I know you've missed me. You need to open the link again, soon.-_ I make a noise of assent.  
I'm always afraid of bothering her. She's so _cool_ , and _awesome_. And I'm... _me_. As in, _not_ cool and awesome (sometimes I am, but it's outweighed, I think, by my defects.)  
- _Come here.-_ They tilt my chin up with spidered fingers, press a chaste, emotive kiss to my lips. Fuck.   
 _Jump...  
-Shouldn't you be getting to be?- _They chide gently. I sigh against their front, forehead down.  
 _-Come on. You should do this when you aren't tired, and you haven't been letting people provide aftercare, again_.- They note critically, a bit sternly. Kinda like Blue, actually.   
I wince internally at her comment.  
 _Sorry. I don't want to be a bother..._  She snorts.  
 _-You sound like Blooky. And you know I love that ghost, but the two of you need to get some self-confidence._ \- That feels vaguely insulting, and I try to puzzle out why. I give up after a few seconds.  
 _That feels mildly insulting, but I'm not sure why._  It comes to me a few seconds later. Her eyebrows are raised as she waits.  
 _Oh! It implies that we don't have agency, I think._ She snorts again, softly this time. Not derisively  
 _Also, it's sassy as fuck_. I love feeling Jump. They're so.... _amazing_. Open, and affectionate, and, just... I lift my head, and they use the opportunity to peck me on the nose. I make a noise of protest, and they grin brightly.  
 _-Sorry, love. Grow a backbone, then we'll talk.-_ I growl at her playfully.  
 _Jump! You bitchy sassmaster!_ She feigns shock for all of three seconds before bursting out into silent laughter -and not-so-silent laughter, which peals off into the Void.  
I want to be carried, or rather to be physically close to someone (preferably Jump) but aren't really sure how to ask. There's a pause where I get distracted. Jump sighs, though not, I think, at that.  
 _-You aren't letting people take care of you like you should_. _-  
I can't reciprocate all of the time. _Jump makes a noise.  
 _-But you_ do _. When you can. And you're sweet, and kind, and funny._ \- My soul feels like it's floating at their praise. I make a sound of disagreement anyway, because I'm _not_ very funny, or kind, or sweet, most of the time. Another sigh, and a kiss to the top of my head.  
 _-Come on. Show me that house of yours_. _-_ That's a thought. Where did that even _come_ from?  
 _Which one?_ I ask. They flicker in surprise.  
 _-You have_ more than one?! _-_ I snort underisively.  
 _Of course. I can, so why wouldn't I? It's more like they change to my preference, though. Well, there's also The Hall, where I offer Sanctuary._ Their eyebrows raise slowly, and they make the impression of a whistle.  
 _-Damn.-_ I nod.  
 _Yes, I'm rather proud of my Coleseum. It's a nice place. Hard to relax there, though, because the boys could pop in at any time._ Anywhere _. They're absolute_ rascals _._ I chuckle. Their eyebrows raise more.  
 _Boys?_ Another nod.  
 _Remus and Romulus. They come from a really,_ really _strange world....kind of Greek-themed. Apparently we're the vessel for a wolf goddess there? It's pretty interesting. They're both Sanses. I'unno where their Papyrus's are. I asked, but they kind of didn't answer. Maybe they just don't know._ Shrug. I'm getting a bit antsy and bored. Oh!  
 _So, what do you want to see?_ I ask playfully.  
 _I don't want to call up the Hall right now. What...do you want? What's your aim?_ If it's to rest, it would be easier to go to Honey's house. I don't think it would be a good idea to go to sleep inside a construct. They hum.  
 _-Just give me a tour of your room. Fell told me about it.-_ Surprise flares. Huh.   
 _Why were you talking to Fell?_ They shrug and move their eyes. Guess they don't want to talk about it. I let the subject drop.  
 _K. Be prepared for, like, the coolest room_ ever _, if I can concentrate enough._ I hold onto their hand. We step back into the Void, and I focus on sketching up my house. (I think anyone in the Void could maybe do this, but I don't know....maybe not _anyone_ , but not just me, I'm pretty sure. I bet Strings can do this!)   
I don't want to have the glass wall - that would feel exposing. Nor do I want a huge, swooping room.  
A dimly lit area of indeterminate size covered in comforters, with pillows scattered throughout. The whole area is sort of maroon - red, in varying shades. I let go of the other world - I don't need to keep it up this second. A flair of green appears. It's beautiful.  
Jump smiles over my shoulder.  
 _-Thought I could help._ \- I hum accord confusedly. _I'm_ not even sure what I'm making. Do they have a plan?  
Blue swirls and twists around a bedpost that's suddenly _there_ , and the room is too open and dark at the same time, I don't like the ambiance - I shake my head.  
 _No. Feels like a cigarette-smoking-asshole-man lives here_. There's even a mirror on the wall. There's a weird smell- cranberries? Pommegranite? Blackberries? -but it's gone before I can identify it. They hum thoughtfully. I sigh.  
 _Jump, just make your own_. I set space aside for them, and remake my pillow-blanket fort. It feels too closed-in, suddenly, and I sigh and raise the ceiling. Jump, meanwhile, is standing in shock.  
 _-What? What do you mean, make my own?-_ I raise my eyebrows at them.  
 _Make your own. What are you not getting?_ Oooooh, that was snappish.  
 _Sorry. Didn't mean to sound snappish_. They blink, still shocked, apparently?  
 _-Make my own?!!? I can DO that!?-_ Blink - rub my ears a little at the loudness - nod.  
 _Probably. When I'm here, almost definitely. Maybe you could do it on your own. Just, uh. If you try, be careful,_ please _._ I don't want to lose her to something so stupid. They nod, looking thrilled.  
 _-I wonder if Honey could?!-_ I shrug.  
 _Probably. If you can. Dunno._ I get the vague impression of Strings snorting at this, the loveable tsunderplane he is.  
 _But I kind of have to go to bed, so....can we finish up? Please?_ A surprised blink, then -  
 _-Oh! Yes! Of course!-_ And then everything is cleared. But it's more like _flattened_  - the platform is still there, as is the energy.  
An admirable try.  
 _No, that's not_ quite _how you do it. Just..._ I do it.  
 _Imagine it sinking back into the Void, kind of. It doesn't need to be_ destroyed _, just put away for later_. I bring Jump back to a more main part of the Void - I call places like that 'the Mindscape' for obvious reasons - and then hold out my hand questioningly. They take it with a slight smile, but are clearly still preoccupied. I sigh, release their hand.  
 _You want to go experiment, don't you.  
-Yes.- _I pinch my nasal ridge.  
 _Wait for me, please? Who knows what could happen if you..._ I'm really, really terrified of her erasing herself somehow, by accident. She frowns.  
 _-Aww._ \- I huff.  
 _Just wait. I'll be back in a few seconds - yourtime. We'll do it then. Okay?_ They bounce, appeased.  
 _-Okay!!_ \- I let out a breath at their enthusiasm, just a bit amused and fond.  
 _For now, I'm gonna go find Honey and sleep.  
-Okay!!- _Narrow my eyes at that.  
I find Honey, and go to sleep with him.  
  
Well, no. I intend to, but get side-tracked, other-world, by my grandfather, who's in the middle of a prank (at midnight) on my brother, whose birthday it now is.  
Joy.  
  
  
So, oops. Anyway, it's morning _now_. Should I go back, or go to Jump, or neither...?  
Mn. _Fuck it._ I want to see how we met Honey.  
-  
We were...bedraggled, to say the least. Our hair was an absolute mess - and rather long.  
Well, I can't see or smell to know if we needed a shower.  _Did_ we used to have to shower? ...probably.   
We appear out of no-where. Jumper looks around and spots Honey. The curiosity is immediately apparent.  
"You're new," she/they note, and it's obvious in their voice, too. They also sound friendly. He dropped his cig when they appeared.  
"....speak for yourself." [It's familiar, just...a tug of memory.] My own mouth curves up at that. Jumper laughs genuinely, just a bit. A smile graces them, but there's a shadow behind the bright in their eyes.  
They're tired. Worn-out, but still somewhat hopeful.  
The hopeful must've come from Jump, cause I've never been much of an optimist. He unfurls himself slowly from where he was leaning against the counter, and there's the briefest flinch from them.  
Something dark flashed across his expression and stayed, and we fiddled with our fingers, gaze and head down like a child awaiting punishment.  
"you, uh...okay there, kid?" We wouldn't have been able to see his face, of course - I don't think we saw that way.    
So we could only hear his voice. Cautious, but unthreatening. They watch his feet with their head down ( _fat lot of good that'll do you, if he decides to teleport_ , I think sardonically.) so when he takes a step forward - probably to try and comfort them, or, hell knows what - they flinch back a step, one hand raising defensively.  
Their expression....they're very near terrified. How broken are we?   
They aren't crying, not yet, but I think they're probably kind of scared of...well. If  _Sans_ hurts, just imagine  _Papyrus_ attacking you. He's probably a lot stronger, for one thing. And.... _Papyrus_. Papyrus had always been...our safe person. Maybe not in the  _really_ bad places - some Horrors, and Fells - but...for the most part? He would give us a chance, when Sans wouldn't.  
And here, in this cheery little world, was a Papyrus who seemed just as like to attack us as not.  
At least, for the same reasons Sans does, _when_ he does.  
He stiffens, some sort of realization dawning across his face, and he steps back, audible in the snow. A hand finds the counter before he props himself back up on it, slouching again.  
To make us feel safe. He didn't want to be threatening. There's something soft - and something...a little too like he's looking at himself, like maybe he...was in our place, once, or more than once. His pose is obviously affected, but they seem simultaneously grateful and surprised, almost stunned. ...Kind of numb, maybe.   
They look that level of tired, all of a sudden. His throat clears, and for a split-second any relaxation is gone, a deer-in-the-headlights look in their eyes as their head snaps up, but it passed just as quickly, and the only indication he even saw it is a slight shift to the side, as if getting comfortable, and just the tiniest wince from him.  
. . . Well. They're just staring at each other. Eventually, Jumper starts to shift in place a little, feet scuffing and hands fidgeting with long sleeves - and it's at that point I realize  _they're barefoot_ and wonder if they feel the cold. He notices as well, apparently, because a look of concern flashes across his face. He starts to stand but corrects himself before he's gotten far.  
They don't wince, that time.  
 _Progress_. His throat clears again, though a lot more quietly, and he asks,  
"aren't you cold?" They blink, head coming up and apparently wondering why he's asking. It's written all over them. (We really are an open book, aren't we?) He elaborates, throat clearing once more and head turning a few times as if he's not sure...how to phrase it? Is he uncomfortable? He shifts a little, too. He's not looking at us.  
He doesn't think we're a threat?  
"i mean, you're barefoot. in snow. i know the cold  _goes right through me_ , but, uh -" They're covering their mouth with one sleeve. I can see the brightness in their eyes again-you don't have to see their mouth to know they're smiling at that godawful pun.  
His expression lights at that. They're still covering their mouth. It takes a while for their eyes to dim.  
He pushes off from the counter slowly, and this time there's only a flicker in their eyes. He extends a hand.  
"c'mon. i know a place with great food." They war with themself for a few seconds, eyes switching between his hand and face (they look ready to run. Silly. They know it wouldn't do any good.) They exhale and take a step forward, eyes glued to his. He remains still, posture relaxed.  
Papyrus's voice is gentle.  
"you ever taken a shortcut?" They blink, shoulders drawing back. His head tilts. They pause, searching for signs of maliciousness.  
Finding none, they nod.  
-


	14. 5/11/16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honey's pregnant. They plan to how him how much he means to them, whic goes okay. The opposite doesn't goes as planned.

Their mate.  
He's pregnant. And they haven't even done the traditional baby-listening yet!  
"you're back." They hum. He's on the bed, laptop in front of him. Since when does Honey have a laptop? Though. They really only pop in for sex or cuddling, (or rarely conversation) so it makes sense that he wouldn't have one out then.  
They'd been going to push him over, but don't want to interrupt whatever he's doing. They join him on the bed anyway, nosing and then licking the underside of his jaw. _Mine_. He shivers slightly.  
They huff. This would be _so_ much easier if they could just knock him over.  
He closes the laptop and slides it somewhere. (Under his bed?)   
They make a pleased sound before pushing him over, gently. He follows their guidance, lying on his back. _He looks so delectable_. Saying it would sound false, so they don't.  
Even if it's very, very true. They nuzzle at him somewhere before splaying a hand out on his chest. He watches them patiently, sedately. _My mate_.  
 _Theirs_. The word is dangerous. _Mine_. But it's true.  
Kneeling over him, they press the side of their head to his sternum.  
The child needs shaping, is their first thought. It needs...  
...guidance. So it doesn't grow badly. (How it could, in Honey, is almost a mystery, but they aren't taking chances.)  
They don't just pull his SOUL out - that would be an extreme breach of boundaries, trust, etiquette.   
"May I?" They murmur, eyes on his. He nods, eyes soft and green-tinted in their _other_ vision.  
No child of his could grow to be cruel. They're sure of it with a vengeance, because even if it's _theirs_ they won't _let_ it be cruel.  
If they can't teach it to love, Honey can. _Him_. The child is a _him_ , when it's old enough. But it could be a girl. (It wouldn't surprise them, actually - maybe they _will_ be a girl. Maybe they'll be a male, too. Maybe they'll be androgynous, as well.  
Yes, their child most likely changes. It seems concurrent with what they've seen.)  
His SOUL is heavy and light at the same time in their hands. They cup it, a wave of reverance shooting through them, tears stinging to their eyes. His SOUL is beautiful. _He_ is beautiful.   
They press a kiss to it, awed.  
 _He trusts them with his self. The very center of his being_. They stroke it gently. They're caught between paying attention to it lovingly and kissing him, because they don't want to neglect either even if they aren't separate but they're so caught up in his SOUL, they don't want to stop paying attention to it. They compromise on the fact that it literally _is_ him, all of him, and press another kiss to it, soft and so, so amazed. Dazed, almost.   
They focus on the child inside, _focus_ , and send a tentative line of affection to them, calming, kind.  
Their child will be excellent. Strong, and perhaps too objective for their own good. They will know what kindness is, even if it's only as a philosophical principle, and will practice it frequently.   
They will be _good_.  
They're sure of this. (The little SOUL beats, and their own melts at it. _Look at it_. So tiny, so _pure_. Theirs, and Honey's. Practically glowing.) They _focus_ for a little longer on it, on their child-to-be, something deep inside them satisfied and pleased, almost humming.  
They have to shift their _focus_ to do it, but they press a kiss to both of them, loving, serene. They observe the child for a short while longer, almost not wanting to look away, but they don't want their mate to feel neglected, to _be_ neglected, so, reluctantly, they shift away from their child, a final kiss _goodbye for now, but not for always_  as something _thrums_ , and they don't know from whose SOUL it comes.   
They move their focus from the inside of Honey's SOUL, slowly, carefully. Close their eyes, and hold their mate in their hands.  
He feels worn out, almost, but a natural sort of weariness. They don't think he needs their help with the baby. He's quite capable. (Does he need them to bring down another deer? ....No, not right now. He's sated, and the child is as well. Or perhaps it's the other way around - they're the only reason he's eating meat, after all.)  
They rub their thumb over the surface a final time before pressing his SOUL back into his chest. He receives it with a relaxed sigh.  
Their turn. His turn. However you want to look at it.  
They pull their SOUL out, to offer it to him. _Trust_. Because sometimes they are nervous, but they always trust Honey. Logically, at least.   
And they have no fear of him.  
His own reverance surprises them, knocks the wind out of their lungs gently. It's almost a sweet ache. He nuzzles them, their SOUL, and then a tongue licks it and they jerk.  
"H-H- _Hon_ ey," that was _not_ what they were expecting. Their feathers are a little ruffled. That's not what this is about!  
"but i want to," he murmurs, and they think _but it's not the point_.  
Sex isn't. Lust isn't. _Love_ is. And sex and lust are important, but they _obscure_ love, in some ways.  
He presses another kiss to it, and their stomach coils as they keen.  
"H- _Hon_ ey," and it still isn't the point but they find they really don't mind as he brushes a hard thumb over it, and _oooh_. It isn't rough, the gesture, but it feels like _pressure_ , across their chest and - he presses a fang against one of the points and they yelp, coil winding tighter. They aren't even sure where their body is, too focused on the patterns he's tracing, unsexual - giving them a break without loss of contact.  
" _H-Honey_ ," they whine, because their muscles are tensing and untensing, and they want...they want...  
They don't know what they want, exactly, besides that they want _him_. They aren't sure they're picky about _how_. A triumphant-seeming smile curves one side of his mouth, and he presses another kiss to their SOUL, almost chaste at first, but soon their spine is arching, hands curling in response to the sensation.   
" _Honey._ Now." And they're half breathless and probably under him, so it's almost odd (almost an order but they aren't sure if it is or isn't, just - just) and there's another void of sensation and they make a frustrated sound.  
" _P-please_ , Honey. I need you..." And he growls lightly at them, the sound going straight down their spine.  
"if you switch out in the middle, i'm not going to talk to you for a week."  
"No, no, no," shaking their head. _No_. This isn't about getting off. This is about _him_. They wouldn't forgive it, either. And he's straddling them, hands a steady weight on their shoulders, towering over them but not dominating (and they half-hope he will)   
\- where's their - their SOUL is between them, and they can feel the texture of his sweater against it, rough in comparison. He meets their eyes, and they stare back, waiting, almost impatient.  
He moves before they do, of course, because he's the one in the lead right now. They're sure he has something in mind, and they can't _wait_ to see what it is. (They somewhat guiltily hope it's rough, with biting and him holding them in place, fucking them senseless.  The thought is....appealing.)   
and he leans down, to press a soft kiss against the exposed skin of their shoulder. They make a sound of protest.  
 _Bite me._ Hurt _me_.  
"you don't really want that," he tells them, softly running phalanges down their abdomen. They twitch at the touch, the softness.   
He kisses them instead, soft and sweet and caring, and it's good, but it's not - it's not -  
they _said_ this wasn't about getting off, didn't they? _Yes, but that was before Honey made it about sex_.   
They don't know what to do if he isn't...if he isn't...they feel vulnerable all of a sudden, retreating into themself and ducking their head as confused tears threaten to form.  
"shh," he coaxes, very gently turning them over, pulling _them_ on top of _him_ , and they tremble slightly, exposed and confused and afraid in a way they don't understand.   
"shhh," he tells them again, sitting up to wrap them in his arms. They shake against him, unable to put words to the incomprehensible emotion. He strokes their hair and they make a sound of protest. They don't want that right now.  
They're confused, a-and...afraid. Not of him. Never of him. What are they afraid of?  
( _Themself_. Always, usually, themself. But what _now?_ ) There's revulsion, anxiety, twisted together. Not at _Honey_ , but they don't know where it comes from or where it's going, otherwise. Maybe at themself?  
"shh." They feel too exposed.  
 _C-can I...have my SOUL back?_ Tears build at their eyes, because they don't _want_ him to think they don't trust him, don't want him, don't love him, but they're _overwhelmed_  - he hushes them again as the first tears fall, leaving tracks down one cheek. He pulls back only for a second to return it to their chest, before wrapping his arms around them again.  
"so brave," he half-croons.  
"so brave for me," and they don't understand. Did he know this would happen? What does he mean? They aren't sure they feel up to asking those questions right now.  
He presses a kiss, soft and sweet and caring, to the top of their head.  
"S- _stop_ that," they tell him.  
"no," he replies. His arms snake further around them.  
"you deserve love. you don't think you do, but you _do_ , Other. you're a good person, even when you don't want to believe it." They don't know what to say, or do, feeling nearly as overwhelmed as when their SOUL was out.  
They're uncomfortable. Why is he trying to make them love themself? They already love Jump. They don't need to love themself. They should, but they don't, and this doesn't feel right. They don't like it. It makes them feel a little empty, and they don't like that. They pull out of his arms, needing space. They wipe at their face, but the tears have already dried, mostly.  
They're tired, and feel drained.  
" _this_ is what you do to me," and he puts a hand to their chest, gently, and they see a _burst_ of vibrancy, colors swirling and _beautiful_  and _too much_.  
"S- _stop it_ ," and the tears are making a comeback.  
" _Stop,_ Honey. It's _too much_." And he draws back, looking...guilty, alarmed, and they feel vindictive pleasure at that, and _no_ , they _aren't going to let themself feel that way_. They pull in a deep breath, release the _stupid_.  
No, they just need...they just need...something.  
Fell, maybe. He doesn't make them talk about mushy-gooshy emotions. But they don't want to leave Honey, shouldn't leave their first mate with the pup while he's worried about them, don't want to leave in the middle of this moment he was trying to make.  
But _they_ need space, and if they don't take it, they're going to become biting and hurt. They pull him down gently, to kiss him on the forehead.  
"I need space, love. I'll be back, soon, but right now I need space. It's too much, at once." They hope he understands. They wait an indeterminate amount of time (a second, half a minute - they don't know) before he nods, and then they're in the Void. Swap, or Fell? Something tells them Swap would be better equiped to handle this, but it feels like a bad idea. They don't want to trouble him.   
Or Fell, for that matter, but for some reason they aren't worried so much about bothering Fell.  
They're in the bedroom with a soft _pop_ , and there's an arm over their throat as they're against the door. They'd somewhat expected this, but hadn't been sure.  
"Oh. It's you." He releases them, and their expression lands on the floor.  
They feel his eyes on them.  
"Who did this to you?" He growls, tilting their chin up. They pull it away from his grip. They don't want their face seen, let alone to have to make eye contact. He huffs.  
"Tell me," he orders.  
"Honey," they respond.  
"But not on purpose. I just got overwhelmed, and.." They shrug. The suspicious, wary part of them says he _knew_ it was too much, that he was _trying_ to do this to them, but they refuse to draw conclusions, and anyway, why _would_ he?  
Pregnancy hormones, maybe.  
A growl, and they shudder just a bit reflexively. A thumb rubs circles in their shoulder, not soft but not hard, relaxing them.  
"Should I have a talk with him?" He asks gruffly. They glance up. Search for the right words.  
"No." He snorts.  
"You're much too protective of him," he pulls them over to the bed.  
"Have you _seen_ my Protect STAT? It's a wonder I haven't begged him to never leave the house, after fortifying and warding it. Actually, I _should_ ward it - and yours, and Swap's - especially with a baby on the way..." They rub their chin.  
"A BABY?!" He shrieks. They blink up at him, actually surprised.  
"You didn't know? I got him pregnant. Apparently shadows can do that." They're on their back on the bed. (Yes, _this_ is what they're comfortable with. Posturing and power shows and biting words. It's _safer_.)  
"And yet you won't have a child with _me_ ," he growls. They keep themself from twitching.  
"It wasn't on purpose. Shadows are apparently _very_ virile." They snort, eyes rolling to the side.  
"I only fucked him once. And there's special-made contraceptive for us. Learned that in another world by accident. There was actually a riot..." His gaze presses heavy on them, and they shut up. They raise an eyebrow.  
"What, do you want me to get _you_ pregnant, too? I hardly think that would be a good idea." He's staring down at them, impassively. They're almost nervous, despite their cheeky statement.   
"YES." They don't comprehend.  
"AT SOME POINT, I WOULD LIKE TO BEAR YOUR CHILD." They're shocked into silence. Surely he isn't.... _serious?_  When they've recovered their voice,  
"Fell, do you know how _dangerous_ your world is? No, don't answer that, of _course_ you do. What I _meant_ to say was, would you _really_ want to be that vulnerable for such a long time with a bloody _child_ in your SOUL? A _shadow child_ , Fell. They absorb. _Everything_. I'm worried about _this one_ , and it's in _Honey_ , for Christ's sake. Shadows are not exactly the most _civilized_ of species. We. Are. _Dangerous_." They finish with a hiss.  
He rests his forehead on theirs, eyes glinting.  
"So am I." Yes, and they love that about him.  
"That's the problem. We could create - quite literally, actually, but not like _that_  - a monster. As in, psychopathic, sociopathic, _whatever_ , man-eating monster. Abomination. Creature. Dammit, you know what I mean." He watches them with mild amusement as they send a light glare up at him.   
"I don't want to unleash something _dangerous_ on the world. I'm already scared enough about the one Honey's carrying." His expression changes.  
"YOU SAID 'SOMETHING'. Not 'someone.'" They exhale, looking away.  
"It's hard...to think of them as a _person_. I don't know them yet. I don't know what they'll be like. I've met some shadows that're barely more than instinct wrapped in a body. I'm worried they'll be like _that_." His expression doesn't _soften,_ exactly. The Great and Terrifying Papyrus does not _soften_. But if he were another person, it would be softening. Just a bit.  
"You turned out well." They hiss, stare at the wall in frustration.  
"I'm _dragon_. And _human_. And probably bloody _phoenix_ , if some people are right. I'm _integrity-sub-justice_. I _had_ to turn out well." He grips their chin, but doesn't move their head.  
"No, you didn't. You could have inflicted only justice on _others_ , not yourself. Only on those you _wish_ to prosecute, not _all_. You could define _integrity_ as _what you want, regardless of the consequence on others_." They frown up at him.  
"That's _not_ how integrity works."  
"A responsibility toward _yourself_ , then. To do what's best for _you_ , no matter what." Oh.  
They... _could_ have done that, they suppose.  
They don't _like_ it, but it fits within the parameters. He continues.  
"You're a good SOUL." They flinch away from his gaze.  
"I'm warning you right now, Fell. I didn't come here for a mushy-gooshy talk. I came here to get _away_ from that." There's something they can't identify humming in the air.  
"Very well. Then let me _show_ you how I feel." They can't help but think this is a very bad idea. He had better not take out his SOUL.  
 _I'm not taking out my SOUL right now_ , they snap at him. He pauses mid-movement, frowning.  
"Of course you aren't. Why would you be? Did _he_ make you?" They frown in return.  
"No. Honey would never make me do something like that." He kind of had. He'd initiated sex when they'd said they didn't want to.  
They didn't tell him no, though. And they were enjoying it...they just got overwhelmed. It was too much. (He should have respected their boundaries.)  
He rests his chin on one hand, watching them.  
"Tell me what happened," he commands. Despite that, they're well aware they could refuse. But if they do, he'll probably keep makign quips at Honey, and they honestly want to get it out. They exhale, closing their eyes.  
"Stop hovering over me like a vulture. Get over here and touch me, or get away from me." They're antsy, the anxiety building up a bit again. He frowns.  
And then they're wrapped in a plush blanket, comforting and soft.  
....he remembered.  
Long arms wrap around them, pulling them against his chest. His legs stretch out on either side of them, impossibly long. _Legs for miles,_ they think, amused. A hand runs through their hair.  
"Good?" He asks gruffly. They nod, leaning against him in thanks.  
 _I...We.._  He interrupts them.  
"I want to hear your voice. If it's too much, stop, but I would like to hear your tones." They frown, a bit, but it's not an unreasonable request. They don't understand _why_ he wants that.  
They can ask.  
"Why? It'll just sound more dramatic."  
"I would like to know your opinions on the matter at hand. That's somewhat difficult when you aren't verbally speaking." They suppose he has a point. That's kind of what they figured. Their previous point stands, anyway. They exhale again.  
"We were..I was...so, he's pregnant. I wanted to see the baby. Get a feel for it. For _them_. I think they're like me, or going to be - changing gender, whatnot. Wanted to show him how much I _appreciated_ him, how much I loved him. So I took his SOUL out - with permission, of course, and at home, where it was safe - and...showed him. Sort of. Gathering up emotion can be _difficult_ for me, but I think I got my point across...adequately, at least I hope I did." They shake their head slightly, pausing for breath.  
"I looked at the child, of course. That was the main point. Then I...paid attention to him. I don't know how else to put it. I didn't _lavish_ him, not really, but I wanted him to see that I wasn't _lying_ when I said I cared." They bit their lip against further words. Conjecture.  
"Anyway. He was...tired, I guess. I think it wore him out to have his SOUL out, in some manner. I didn't quite understand until mine was out, as well; I think it's some sort of emotional exhaustion, perhaps. Not _bad_ , but tiring, definitely. I gave my SOUL to him -"  
"You WHAT?" He exclaims. They give him an odd look, though they doubt he sees it.  
"I gave my SOUL to him. To do the same. He had shown his trust in me, his willingness to put his life in my hands, quite literally, and I was doing the same. I would have been remiss not to." He seems to calm at this, but shifting a little, not entirely pleased nonetheless.   
"He turned it...sexual." Their voice becomes uncomfortable. His hold around them tightens, and they want to..  
"Can I hold your hand?" They swallow their pride to ask. Silence, before a hand maneuvers under their blanket, waiting. They take it with both of theirs, just holding on. They appreciate the comfort, immensely.   
They nuzzle his hand in thanks, but don't kiss it. That would be too much.  
"He...I...wasn't comfortable with it. Not that I was so much... _un_ comfortable with it..." They swallow.  
"I...enjoyed it, I guess. I mean! I did! But..that wasn't what this was _about_. And I _told_ that to him, and he said 'but I want to', and I didn't..." They sigh. There's an odd sound, which they recognize finally as Fell growling, lowly and constantly. They wince, thinking they've upset him automatically, before he stops abruptly, roughly patting their hair.  
"Not you," he growls. Their head is still ducked. He _definitely_ won't like the rest of the story. They're feeling a little numb.  
"He didn't... _make_ me," they feel the need to point out.  
"I could have stopped him at any time, and he would have." He growls again, differently. In disagreement.  
"That's _not_ what a soul sharing is about. He should know that. He _must_ know that. To violate that trust.." They're confused, once again.  
"I don't understand. Enlighten me. What trust did he violate?"  
" _Yours_."  
"Obviously. Elaborate. Please. I don't understand." They think they have an inkling, but aren't quite sure where it goes.  
"Removing a SOUL for sexual pleasure is one thing," his voice is still half a growl.  
"Removing it for SOUL sharing..." He hesitates.  
"Is different. Emotions are conveyed more clearly. The _intention_ when pulling out a SOUL _matters_. He could have damaged you." He's clearly not happy. He doesn't continue, and they think they hear him grinding his teeth.  
"...It didn't feel right. I wasn't sure why. Is that why?" He exhales, audibly.  
"Quite possibly. Or it could be because he's a massive jackass." They blink.  
"No defense on his behalf?"   
"Thinking. Processing. Obligatory defense." He snorts harshly. (His rough edges complement their own; they fit together, jagged and sometimes unyielding. They're forces to crash against each other without _breaking_ , but both of them recognize when it goes too far. It doesn't, often.)  
"How would he have _known_ this? Maybe it's just intrinsic to your world." He snorts again.  
"Unlikely." They hum in response.  
"Baby hormones?"  
"Would they cause him to become homicidal?" They respond without missing a beat.  
"Quite possibly. And that's with _humans_. I can't _imagine_ what shadow instincts are doing to him. Well, I can, but it's the expression. He eats _raw meat_ now, Fell. From undressed carcasses. I bring him the fresh kill, and he _eats_ it. It's a shadow thing, and don't you dare call him crazy or some shit like that." He raises his hands peaceably. There's a slight pause.  
"Interesting. Would I do the same?"   
"I imagine. Young shadows need _meat_. It's also part of the courtship ritual. Granted, we're already _mated_ , which in most cultures is when a courtship seems to _end_. For shadows, it's continual, reassuring your mate you're _theirs_ and will protect and provide for them. Or, on the other end, will bear for and... _obey_ isn't the right word. There's a concept I can't quite grasp when I'm like this. Be faithful to, maybe? I'm not sure. Shadows are very territorial. But I'm not sure polyamorous relations are uncommon, either. There's also a distinct _shift_ when one partner becomes pregnant. I don't think it's _permanent_ , but for the first few days I was going _nuts_. Could hardly think with how shocked I was, though, and that probably contributed." They snort.  
"Didn't expect to get my _boyfriend_ pregnant." They sense a raised eyeridge.  
"You think of him as your boyfriend?" They shake their head.  
"No. It's a human colloquialism. It's...a cultural thing." He nods. They're glad, because they don't know how they'd explain it further. They sigh.  
"Should I tell you the rest of the story now, while I remember it? Then we can move on?" He hums his agreement.  
"Anyway. So. Where the hell was I?"  
"He was forcing you to have sex."  
"He was _not_. He started...are you comfortable hearing about this?" They'd rather ask permission than forgiveness. He hesitates, then sighs.  
"I don't like hearing of your exploits with him, but it is relevant." They huff a sigh.  
"I'll never understand the two of you's rivalry. Why don't you just bang and get it all out of your system?" He splutters at that, and they laugh, turning and leaning up to give him a kiss on the cheek.  
"Kidding." Then they wink.  
"Though I wouldn't mind if you do." He reddens, mouth tightly together. They hid a grin, ducking back into their blanket fort.  
"So, he started getting me off, basically, but it was more like....teasing? Kind of. Anyway. So, I tell him I need him - I still don't know what I _needed_ , exactly-" there's a sound from Fell, like this is exactly what he expected.  
"He did a horrible, horrible thing, and I'm not going to tell you what it is right now."  
"What? Why?" They know why.  
"Because you won't be able to get pissed yet. You're too tired." They concede the point.  
"So...I'm under him, and..I wanted it rough. This is after he told me he wouldn't speak to me for a week if I switched out like I have a tendency to do." Fell snorts.  
"Hey, don't knock it til you've tried it."  
"I tell him to _bite_ me. Hurt me. Knew he wouldn't do the second, but I figured it'd even out to _at least a bit rough_. He _can_ be dominant."  
"I have no doubt," he returns wryly. They exhale at him.   
"Oh, please. I could make _you_ melt, I bet, if I wanted. If _you_ wanted, obviously, too." He doesn't respond to that, and they worry they've gone too far.  
"....Perhaps we'll have to try that." They swallow, uncertain of his tone. They squeeze his hand.  
"Only if you're comfortable with it, Paps." A pause.  
"Wow, I get distracted a lot. Sorry. He says...'No.' And then he starts going on about how I 'deserve love' and 'am a good person'. In the middle of fucking! With my SOUL out! Well, not in the _middle_ of fucking. We hadn't quite gotten _there_ yet, if you know what I mean."  
"I don't."  
"His dick wasn't in me."  
"Of course. How crass. Go on." They snort-laugh at that, releasing Fell's hand. Being around him is enough, right now. He removes it from under the blanket to wrap his arm loosely around them once more.  
"And it was just... _too much_. It..I felt... _vulnerable_. I didn't know what to _do_ under somebody, if they weren't, y'know, being kind of rough -and if you laugh I will bite your dick off the next time I go down on you - an he pulled me over on top of him, but I was just kinda too...sensitive. Not like that - just. I felt really exposed, and unsafe. Wasn't scared of _him_  - but I was scared of somethin. He sits up with me, has me in his arms, and I had ta ask him to put my SOUL back in, because I just...I didn't want to disappoint him, but I couldn't take it any more. It was too much. I didn't like it." They swallow. Check the case file.  
"Woops. I remembered _half_ of that wrong, and I was _just there_. I really need to get my memory checked."  
"Or traumatic experiences are difficult to recall accurately." They don't respond.  
Then they sigh.  
"Mind if I restart from the beginning? It'd be easier." He hums accordance.  
"So he was mucking with my SOUL, then he does this weird sweet thing where he kisses my shouler, and I didn't like it. I wanted to be _fucked_ , not...shoulder-kissed. But, yeah, it didn't feel right. _Then_ I told him I wanted it rough, and he says that _I_ don't really want that, and does more mushy-gooshy, except this time it's actually sex-related." Fell snorts. They don't blame him.  
"I mean. Vaguely. Not as much as I needed. And we're kissing - or, rather, he's kissing me- and I just start feeling...vulnerable. Confused. He hushes me, pulls me over on top of him instead, and I'm shaking a bit and almost crying and still confused and kind of afraid, and I still don't understand about _what_ , exactly, cause it ain't like he's gonna hurt me, and it wasn't like I was afraid of _him_. I was just afraid of _somethin_. He hushes me again, 'n pulls us up. He does the hair-patting thing, and it upsets me? I don't get it, 'cause I love that, but it bothered me  so I told him to knock it off. Nicely. I was tryina think, goin over _what_ the _hell_ was wrong, and...I felt kinda _revolted_. I don't know what at. Not like 'ew', exactly, but kind of a 'this isn't right'.   
He hushes me again. I finally reach my point, and ask for my SOUL back, feelin pretty bad about it. Was afraid he was going to think I didn't trust him.  
But it's just too much. I'm _overwhelmed_. Cry a tiny bit, he does the hush thing, puts my SOUL back in.  
Then he starts calling me...brave? He's, like, _croonin_ it. Was weird. 'So brave', he says. 'So brave for me'. And I'm wondering why he's saying that, if he knew this was going to happen -" Fell is deadly still around them, but they continue.  
"He kisses me on the top of the head- calm down; I told you it sounds dramatic. I just don't leave out the details like most people. I tell him to 'stop that', and he says no. Hugs me more. _That's_ when he says the bit about deserving love and being a good person, even if I don't want to believe it. It makes me....really uncomfortable. Vulnerable all over again. Something just doesn't smell right, an I pull away from 'im. I'm tired. He goes, 'this is what you do to me', an then he goes like this?" They twist around, hand just barely on Fell's sternum. They don't see his expression.  
"And there are these _colors_. They're _beautiful._ And way too much, which I tell him. Tell 'im I need some space, then I skiddaddled. 'N you know the rest." They pause.  
"See, I _told_ you it sounds dramatic." They complain, disliking how their story sounded.  
It really came off much worse than it actually was! They've _definitely_ been through way worse.  
Fell is eerily silent. Usually by now he would comment, or at least make _some_ sort of sound...  
Is he that pissed? They shuffle to face him.  
His expression is closed off. They wince slightly, not sure what to do. Should they show affection? Leave him alone?  
"Boss?" They ask, tentatively. His eyes snap to them, and they fight not to tense.  
"I WILL BE HAVING A TALK WITH YOUR...MATE." He seems to be gritting his teeth even as he speaks.  They raise an eyebrow.  
"Isn't gritting your teeth bad for you?"  
"NO."   
"Kay. You know I can't let you talk to Honey - my pregnant mate - like this, right? If there's something wrong, _I_ need to address it. Which isn't a right now activity. Right now is almost time to go to sleep, but I imagine you're probably sick of my mug by now. I know I am." Them and their drama.   
"If I were sick of you, I would tell you." They give him a dubious expression.  
"Would you?"  
"YES." They can't tell if that's a lie or not. Either way.  
They rub the top of their head against him, sighing.  
"Thanks for takin good care of me, Boss." They tell him softly. A hand rests on their head.  
"THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO PROTECT YOU." They wince.  
"IN YOUR OWN ANNOYING AND STUNTED MANNER." They snerk, then break into small fits of laughter. Boss's arms come to rest back around them. After a bit, the laughter tapers off.  
"So, why d'ya want a kid with me, anyway? Why not, like, Sans? Or literally anybody else?" A pause.  
"Wait. I never asked. _Can_ you guys get pregnant?"  
"IF WE WISH TO." A pause.  
"OUR CHILDREN WOULD BE STRONG."   
"Is that the only reason?" It most likely isn't. He hesitates. They lean up to nuzzle his jaw, and his countenance loosens.  
"They would be beautiful. The combination of our destructive mights, in one tiny being. Our child would grow to be a great warrior." Their head tilts as they consider.  
"That's not the only important thing." He snorts.  
"NO, BUT IT IS _AN_ IMPORTANT THING." They agree, mentally, that such a child would likely be as he describes - beautifully powerful. Capable of great (and not always necessarily good) things.  
"...You realize if we ever have a kid, we're teaching them morals, right? Like, Jump-level morals?" They pause.   
"Okay, well, wait. Maybe not _Jump_ level. I don't want them to get _killed_. But, close."  He snorts.  
"I WOULD EXPECT NOTHING LESS." They settle against him, glad that's settled.  
"...But seriously, how do skeletons pick names for their kids? Is it just the font they speak in?"  
"YES."  
"Oh."  
"INDeed." They shift more comfortably against him.  
"Have you met the young ones? Katydid, Teho, Chive?" A faltering.  
"Yes. Briefly. They're why I want my own. Your children...breed true." They can tell it's a compliment, but aren't sure if it's the kind they should get offended at.   
But it's late, and they need to go to bed. So they do.


	15. 19/11/16 - Honey has insomnia

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Honey has insomnia.   
> He also manages to annoy Other right after they realize how in love with him they are, but maybe that's just them growing a backbone. It's hard to tell, with them.

Honey had insomnia last night; you were too groggy to ask much about it this morning, when you went over for cuddles. Managed to ask (vaguely) if he'd had nightmares, but you think he just couldn't sleep.  
Why he bothered lying down if he couldn't sleep is beyond you (you'd get bored ad uncomfortable really, really fast) - maybe because you were there? You hope not. You blip in after you've left (as per usual), computer in hand.  
"Want company?" He raises his head. You set the computer down on the floor, carefully, before lying down beside him and pressing a kiss to his teeth. You find his fingers with your own.  
"Wanna talk about it?" You aren't good at sympathy, always - at the actually _feeling_ it.  
You try. Oh, god, you try.  
But it just doesn't come naturally. So sometimes you have to make do without natural _caring_ , and just go through the motions (and some might not understand it, but you would argue that taking care of someone when you have no emotional _urge_ to is more loving by far than doing so when you have that urge.)  
His fingers squeeze yours, and he closes his eyesockets, exhaling softly. Your foreheadsd press together.  
"nah." Should you push? Does he want you to push? Would that be pushy?  
...  
"I'm not going to push, because I don't know if you want me to push, but we can talk about it if you want. Or not. I'm not really good at reading social cues, so sorry." Your eyes flick away. Why are you telling him that? It sounds like an excuse. He already knows it.  
He chuckles, softly. Brushes his other hand over your forehead, moving hair out of the way.  
"i know." You're silent.  
"....Do you want company? Do you want me to leave?" What does he need? How can you give it to him?  
He nuzzles into your neck, and you go lax, sighing his name absently. Your fingers are still entangled, and you wonder if he feels like it's a desperate attempt to not get lost in the dark (lost from each other) to bridge the distance between stars, so, so far away (every man an island - and some of us are sinking, others already sunk.)  
"you think too much," he murmurs against your skin. You snort, lightly.  
"You're one to talk," you reply quietly back, honestly. He acknowledges this by exhaling.   
You squeeze his hand, lightly. He holds harder, and it's almost enough that you can see through the cloud of dark between you.  
"You thoughts are heavy tonight," pops out before you can stop it. You aren't sure if it's salvaging or worsening, but you add,  
"Or maybe that's mine." After a few seconds he closes his eyes, as if in defeat, huffing out through his mouth (or had he expected you not to notice, when you were awake? Or are you seeing things that aren't really there?) and his forehead touches yours again, gingerly (as if he's afraid something will break) and you're afraid he already has, that you already have, that...  
...But what's broken can be mended, in most cases. Sometimes, it's even better. (The question is how much you're willing to put into fixing.)  
He exhales, heavily.  
You reach out, hesitantly. You have to sit up to do it.  
"Honey..." You murmur, and you can see the stars of his mind, shining and twinkling in the dark - brighter, illuminating the gloom more than they did, but still so, so weak compared to his luminescent smile, his laugh, the twinkle in his eye when he makes a joke or says something kind, and with a start you realize you're crying and the stars have gone dark, and no, _no_ , you can't let his stars go out - you don't know what you're doing, but you pull a hand to rest on your cheek, and the tears fall (sear into your dry skin - it's almost winter, and the air is harsh)  
but they aren't healing tears, just regular old salt and water, and it does nothing as they trail over his fingers.  
Jump is the phoenix, not you. And even if you were, this isn't the sort of thing you can fix with healing magic, is it?  
Is it? Maybe. Love. You don't know. You don't _know_.  
The tears taper off. His eyes are closed again, and for a second you're afraid, _terrified_ , that you gave him the wrong tears by accident - the kind where you sleep and never wake up - but then his eyes open halfway, and there are tears in his own, not glowing (but why would they? But why _wouldn't_ they?)  
and you make a sound and launch yourself at his chest.  
 _I don't want you to go out_ , you tell him knowing it won't make any sense to someone who's probably never seen the stars  
(but he's _your_ star)  
not the real ones, have you taken him yet? You've always meant to, but you're worried it won't be enough, won't be good enough, won't be perfect - you'll fuck it up somehow, just like you always do - and the tears are back, progressing slowly down your cheeks one-at-a-time, almost orderly - he catches one on a finger, holding it up to the light. Light?  
You shake your head.  
 _Not magic. Different_. And you don't know how to explain in a way that isn't _stupid_ , in a way that makes sense - you move back, minutely, and he follows. You sign _wait, stay_ , and he does, reluctantly.  
You back away, enough to press a hand to his sternum, press against it firmly.  
 _Light. Your light. Your kindness. You SOUL. Your..._ you. And you don't know how to describe it, don't know how to tell him - it doesn't make _sense_ , even to you - and you're crying again, but he takes your chin and kisses you, gently, and you see half-lit constellations and unfinished universes begging for completion as you taste your tears.  
He calms you, just by being there an _wonderful_ you've made it all about _you_.  
 _Great_. (But you don't know how to help him - what he needs...) The tears come and go. You're pressed against his front (close; too close. If you had to breathe in this body, you'd be screwed. Luckily, you don't, not really.) and he seems to realize this, because he shifts you away, a little - just enough to breathe (and no, you don't _have_ to, but it's certainly more comfortable).   
You reach up to rub at the edge of one eye, where liquid has pooled, salt itching.  
 _Sorry. I always make it about me. I don't mean to_.  
And you don't.  
You just...react. You feel resigned. It's selfish of you, because even now -   
"you're helping me, like this." He tells you quietly. His chin comes to rest above your head, lying down as the both of you are (and you can see the stars, still, and they never interested you when you were aboveground, but you can see them so much more clearly through him, in who and what he is.  
It's beautiful, and it hurts, and it scares you, deep down. Or maybe not so deep down. But it's the good kind of scaring, you think.)  
And you're silent, listening and waiting to understand. Docile and wrung out. He exhales, grip on you squeezing shortly, gently.  
"you care." And he says it like that's _all_ (like it's that simple), like that's _worth something_  
like it's true, like half the time you don't - like half the time you don't have to lock yourself away so no one sees your lack of emotion - and that isn't a shadow thing, you don't think, that's just a _you_  thing, there's something wrong with you and if they _knew_ \- (but you've told them) - but if they knew the depths ( _but you've told them_ ) but they must not _believe_ you (but you don't lie) they must think you're _joking,_  or misrepresenting ( _plausible, but unlikely_ ) and you make a noise of discomfiture into his shirt, burying it in the soft fabric.  
"Nnnnnnn."   
...You had hardly noticed, but...the space between you, that seemed so insurmountable...it isn't as _b i g_ , anymore.  
The tawny light of somethinglike a save star flares and fluxes, but you think it's too burnt-orange to be from him. From you, then, most likely.   
(Because since when are you brave?)  
A hand sifts through your hair. Both of you are dark, him curled around you and you...curled around yourself, you suppose. (You're the space between the stars - you don't shine. You provide the background for others to do so.)  
You're tired, and the kind of calm that comes from having cried - that is to say, more tired.  
(Except when you aren't - you shine, moments of brilliance in the dark)  
(that others surpass, easily, and they're barely there to start with - so infrequent -  
 _but they still happen, and they're yours, so be_ proud _of them_ )  
"Mnnn," you complain into his shirt again.  
He doesn't respond, really. His movements are getting slower, but his grip on you tightens, a little.  
"stay," he barely breathes the word; it whispers to you like a ribbon of light, wind personified. You don't sleep, but you stay, holding onto his hoodie-front and waiting for the calm.  
He sleeps. You don't move, for fear of waking him, but you want to stroke his cheek, run a hand under his shirt and over his ribs (they feel so fascinating), press a kiss to his teeth and feel him respond.  
You want to see the stars in his eyes again.  
So you stay, because it will make him happy (and it doesn't make you happy, staying still like this, right now, but it doesn't make you _unhappy_ , either, and you can fast forward time anyway, and just being next to him like this provides....a sort of peace.)  
They wander away, of course.  
They get distracted, find something else interesting, and get distracted again. And then, when they've had a break, they come back.  
  
...Their hold on him is so tenuous. (but so is his on them.) He could slip from their grasp any moment (if he wanted to, that is - would they try to stop him? Not against his will, certainly..)  
Their grip tightens on his front.  
He's _theirs_. He's his own, but he's _theirs_ , too.  
And they're going to try to make his stars shine as bright as they can. (But what will they do then? Will they get bored?  
....no, they always appreciate the hard projects. They admire them, satisfied, for a long time.  
The problem lies with the fact that he isn't just a _project_ , and the fact that they're aware most people would be offended if you called them one. They don't understand that. Maybe some people would mean it....without respect for them being a person?  
That seems like it.)  
They nuzzle against his front. (The problem will be not neglecting themself, because focusing on him is important, but if you give and give and give...  
...eventually you'll have nothing left.  
They always worry that they take and take and take, and then get too nervous to do anything about it.)  
In the other world, they argue with a child who's much too entitled for his own good, then take one look at the gently swirling galaxies in Honey (ebbing and flowing, not bright but not dark) and feel... _fond_. At first they mistake it for peaceful. It's such a rare feeling, and he elicits it...often. Pale, maybe, but still _there_. And sometimes it's overwhelming- but. In a good way.  
They want to touch him, to stroke his face and press reverant kisses along his jaw and sternum, but they don't want to wake him. So they don't.  
Instead, they ease time (or their perception of it, in this world - they don't know, really, which) along, speeding until morning light touches the floor from the window, spilling golden in a mockery of the sun (because they aren't on the surface, they're (nearly) sure. He stirs, which surprises them. (He stayed still, sleeping 'like the dead' all night.  
....Amusing.  
  
But then they think of Honey dead and it feels like there's a band aroudn their heart, so they push the thought aside with distaste.)  
He makes a small (adorable) noise, groggy as he rolls over.  
An eyesocket opens. Quiet. They can't tell if it's warm or it's cold, but it's pleasant.  
"mornin," he murmurs. He stretches, spine cracking as he arches it off the bed, arms reaching out past his head. (If their pupils could change shape, they would be hearts. And isn't that an absurd thing to find charming?) He rolls back onto his side to face them, breath puffing out.  
"you watchin me sleep?" He asks almost teasingly. There isn't an edge to his tone, or if there is they miss it.  
 _You asked me to stay. I did._ They take pause.  
 _Well, I got bored and left. Once. But then I came back!_ They hurriedly tell him. He blinks slowly, and they think it's at least half because he hasn't woken up fully, before he starts chortling, curling in on himself.  
They let a small, (perhaps triumphant) smile curl their mouth up. He takes a peek at them, and starts chortling all over again.  
"so, i'll assume that's a _yes_ ," he manages between breathy laughter. They aren't sure quite what he finds amusing, but he's not laughing _at_ them, so they don't really care. Too much.  
Okay, they're a little curious. They wait for it to taper a bit, watching him with amusement.  
 _It was easy. All I had to do was speed up time, and,_ vwow-lah! _Instant sleep guardian_.   
You don't understand the wavering frown he wears until he speaks.  
"that wasn't...why i asked you-"  
 _I know._ You raise one corner of your mouth guilelessly at him.  
 _But it's one way to look at it._ He blinks, again. His expression eases.  
He looks soft, draped in sleepiness. You reach out. (You can touch him, now; you don't have to worry about waking him up.) Hesitate (the way you always do, before you touch him - or most anyone, really) before cautiously unfurling your fingers to curl them around the edge of his jaw, instead.  
It's satisfying, touching him (even in so simple a manner; you don't expect that.)  
He leans into your touch, eyesockets closing, and you feel a fuzz starting up before someone yells a question to you in the other place. Sighing to yourself, you shake the mild exasperation off and focus back on him.  
Why do you cry half the time you think about him? You've never cried so often (so _happily_ ) about someone. About _anything_ , you don't think. You're a naturally effusive person, but this _degree_ of happiness....(You ignore the voice that says it's dangerous. You _know_ it's dangerous. It's on all the labels: Love kills. It poisons better than oleander, because it doesn't count as a murder when their heart stops because of you.)  
....You have it _bad_.  
The question is how long it will last. (You hope for a long time.  
But you still, barely know him. What he likes. Favorite foods (anything sweet, you think, which brings the memory of another - you squash it instantly, annoyed), pet peeves, his favorite color. Superficial things, people argue.  
 _Important_ things, you argue. How else are you supposed to know what to make him for dinner, or order for him if he's running late and doesn't know the menu? How are you supposed to pick out a t-shirt without knowing if there's a color he doesn't like, or one he'd prefeer - because of course he would. Who _doesn't_ have a favorite color?)  
...But he's right. You do overthink things. You're overthinking things _right. Now_.  
When instead, you could be kissing this lovely, sweet skeleton in front of you. How foolish of you.  
You unpause, pulling him gently closer (a suggestion more than an action) to brush your mouth against his. His magic sparks to meet you, slowly as his name, and in a burst of something like impatience you flick the tip of your tongue against the seam in his teeth.  
You're floored when his mouth opens and a tongue tangles with yours, practically curling around it. Your mind statics and goes blank in a brilliant array of sparks. (You almost don't hear the gasp that escapes you; your mind a whirlwind in the background, it's almost irrelevent. But remembering is important.)  
By the time you come (relatively) to your senses, he's over you and you're on your back on the bed. (The look in his eyes is predatory.) Your breath catches.  
It must only be seconds, but it seems like much longer. Maybe it is. (You doubt it. Maybe. No? Possibly.)   
Then there's no one over you, no one touching you, and you sit up quickly because being on your back feels _vulnerable_ , not covered by anything just _there_  having someone over you but _not touching_ -  
a blanket is draped over you, and a hand rubs between your shoulders roughly (but not _rough_ , just with enough pressure) for you to feel it, and you let out a noise of protest because that is _not_ an area on you that should, in general, be touched.  
"sorry," he whispers, and backs away.   
You know who he is, you know he won't hurt you, but your instincts need convincing right now, and an excellent way of doing that is to provide space. You'll have to applaud him later. He stays in the room, and you wait until you think the spikes are gone before holding out an arm to him.  
His composture is completely different.  
" _sorry_ ," as he ducks under your arm to nuzzle you, fully apologetic, almost frantic. (Papyrus but Sans but _Papyrus_ ) You nuzzle him back.  
"S'okay. Not your fault. Hard to tell when something'll set one off. Not your fault. S'okay. Sorry I freaked out." He's shaking his head.  
"i-i should've known better-" While it's satisfying and ingratiating to know that he's this upset over having upset you, it's entirely unecessary, because you aren't mad (rationally, or otherwise.)  
You nuzzle again.  
" _Look_. Love. I'm fine. See? _I_ don't even know what's gonna set 'em off sometimes. I mean, besides being surprised. But that's a potluck." Sometimes it doesn't.  
This does not make him feel better, and you realize that _he_ surprised you. Oh.  
Yeah. Well, he didn't do it on purpose, to upset you. (And the environmental conditions were not in favor of him remembering, in the first place - let alone being certain about it, possibly, if he did.)   
....You could explain condescendingly, or just tell him flat-out.  
Obviously, you take the second option.  
"Look, love, if I was angry at you you'd _know_ it. And you didn't do anything reprehensible. So cheer up, buttercup." You boop him on the nose-ridge, hoping that doesn't come off as condescending. He's sniffling.  
...was he _crying?_ You take his face between your hands.  
"Oh, _baby_ , baby baby baby. What's wrong it's okay it's okay it's okay" you wipe at his cheeks with your thumbs, tears pricking your own eyes. You force them back. That would _not_ help.  
You sigh, press foreheads with him and close your eyes.  
...  
...  
You open a link. Just a little one, mostly sending. You give him peace, reassurance, calm. Serenity.   
 _This is how you make me feel. You make me slow down and see the world as it is, at least sometimes._ Instead of your million-miles-a-minute racing thoughts.   
....you should probably take your anxiety medicine more regularly.  
He calms, hands over yours. Good, because you're not in the mood to talk someone down over something stupidd about _you_. (Which makes it _ultra_ stupid.) He snorts. Oh, right.  
You close the link slowly, gently. Press a kiss to his forehead.  
"You are so. Bloody. _Soft_." You tell him, voice almost aggressive.  
"I don't know if that's a _good_ thing or a _bad_ thing." You nuzzle him, sighing and closing your eyes.  
Press another kiss to his temple.  
"But god _damn_ if you aren't magnificent," you breathe to him, recalling the stars of his countenance.  
"nnn." He flops backward, covering his face with one arm. Wondering if he misread the situation, probably.  
"Oh, yeah, no, I was about this close to freaking out. You did really good. The, uh, gving me space thing? Best thing you can do in that situation. Besides a blanket. Because blankets are the best."   
You clamber on top of him, carefully, before settling your weight on him. You can feel his SOUL from this close.  
"You talked me down, love. Well, without words, but the principle's the same. And it's not your fault to begin with, and I don't want to hear to the contrary - yeah, I don't like being startled. But I prolly would've done the same thing, and it's not like you had malicious intent. At all. Which is what _really_ matters." He shifts his arm off one eyesocket to watch you babble reassuringly. You glare at him.  
"Stop that. You're looking at me like I'm a _person_. Can't have any misconceptions now, can we?" You swoop down to kiss him, just a fraction of a second. He bursts out laughing, then claps a hand over his mouth, horrified.  
You try (and fail) to hide a grin, pressing another kiss on the side of his face.  
"Come'un. You know it was funny. _Laugh_! Laugh, damn you!" You poke him in the side and he wheezes in surprise. You frown, apologetic (a bit worried).  
"Honey? Did I poke you too hard?" He flops back down, covering his face again.  
"welp. i'm dead. wake me up when september ends." You go stiff momentarily when the thought from earlier comes back up, before snorting at his song reference.  
"Nice. Green Day trash," you stick out your tongue at him.  
"Song that was probably written for a movie, bleh." You stick out your tongue again, though he can't see it. Suddenly you're flipped, on your back on the mattres with him over you, but he's clearly playful (he's experimenting - with some variable. [You don't understand what, but at the end of the day you know he'll apologize when he goes too far accidentally.])   
"oh, really?" He purrs at you. Your eyes half-lid as your mouth curves up.  
"Mmmmm- _hm_." You stomach flutters as he leans down, but he detours to your neck, making you squeak in surprise, not sure if you feel threatened enough to stop him or not. You trust him. You repeat that mentally as his teeth grow close, _too close too close to your neck you can't see them_  you can't move away  
and you feel the panic  
"S- _stop_ ," you order, breath heaving a bit.  
He swears when he sees your face.  
You don't understand. You come here because he's the gentle one. Why is _Fell_ surpassing him in that? It's ludicrous. You close your eyes.  
"Okay. _One_. I'm gonna say this once, and only once: immediately after an attack is _not_ a good time to test anyone's boundaries. It makes me nervous having someone in my personal space, where _I can't move away_. That makes me _extremely_ anxious. Having something _sharp_ near my _neck_ , one of the most _vulnerable fucking areas of my body?_ Love, that's not-" you stop yourself. You're being bitchy.  
You shouldn't talk to him like that, it's mean - it's rude - it's - _abusive_ , isn't it? (Is it? He upset you. He knew better, and you're doubting his intentions.) You shake your head, feeling regretful of many things.  
You press your lips to his cheek.  
"I think I should go for the morning, swee- dear." He winces visibly at the take-back of the pet name.  
You don't want to use it when you're annoyed. It would taint it. You exhale, close your eyes.  
"Tell me later why you did that, please. Because I want an explanation, and a good one. I don't want to have to be on guard from my mate."  
You see the stricken expression on his face. You lean in and gently run your tongue along the seam of his teeth. Your voice is quiet when you next speak.  
"So if you want to play, just tell me. None of this surprising business." And then you 'disappear'.


	16. 'He started it' / PDA in front of Blue - 21/11/16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Other and Honey are...rude, in front of Blue.  
> ...He started it. They're just finishing it.

"Honey!"They slam their hands down on the table emphatically. Blue snorts from where he's cooking as Papyrus jerks back, surprised.  
"Oops. Sorry." They didn't mean to startle him. He waves them off.  
They slam their hands again, wincing at the stinging sensation.  
"Are you a mom, or a dad?!" They ask demandingly. He stares for a moment.  
"....mom, i guess?"   
"YES!" They exclaim triumphantly. His eyeridges are raised. Blue is snickering softly to himself at the stove.  
"does that mean..." His eyesockets narrow.  
" _you're my daddy?_ " They splutter, backing away.  
" _What the_ hell, _Honey! Not in front of Blue!_ " Who happens to be fully cracking up by now (they're pretty sure they hear the wooden spoon he's holding splinter.  
....yeah, that's impressive. They're still glad they're on Blue's _good_ side, most of the time, 'cause he can be _scary_. They gulp, a little side-tracked.)  
Honey keeps a straight face, besides the smug upturn of his mouth and an unmissable glint in his eye, as he sips calmly from a teacup.  
"i didn't know you were into that kind of thing, Other." They huff at him, exasperated, and cut a glance at Blue, who's no help at all, but is at least trying to keep his laughter inaudible (it's audible. Quiet, but audible.) They aren't _horrified_ , but they are slightly chagrined. The _hell_ , Honey?!  
They simply stare at him, utterly unsure what to do (but somewhat amused, despite themself.)  
Then an idea strikes them.  
An evil, evil idea. The smugness flees his face at their expression. They circle the table, fingers trailing along the top of it. They stop behind him, hands leaving the table to rest lightly on his shoulders. They squeeze gently, and he chokes.  
"Oh, _Honey~_ " They purr, head coming to rest beside his. They tilt his head up at an angle, eyes glinting.  
"You wouldn't want to disappoint your _daddy_ , would you?" They ask almost under their breath. He swallows. They see an orange glow, and a smile spreads over their expression in triumph. Blue clatters something, clearing his throat, and they press a kiss to his jawbone, winking.  
Mouth by where an ear would be if he had one, they whisper teasingly,  
"Wow, Honey. I didn't know you were into that sort of thing." His face is covered in light orange. They press another kiss to the side of his skull, ending their point. They loop their arms around his neck loosely, rub their head lightly against his.   
Blue sets food down clatteringly in front of Papyrus, face....well, blue.  
"I'd prefer if the two of you kept your flirting out of the kitchen," he manages, not making eye contact. Other presses their face against Honey's skull to hide a smile.  
"He started it." Something clatters.  
"Yes, well, I'm ending it!" Other nudges Honey, feeling distinctly amused and not very merciful.  
"What do you say, Honey?" His face is buried in his hands, but the orange glow is still quite visible.  
_Heh. Cute_. They nuzzle him, purring. Blue sighs, tossing his gloves down - oven gloves, or his usual ones?  
"Eat up before it gets cold," but he's still embarrassed, voice lacking the enthusiasm usually present. The corners of their mouth curl down. They slide their arms out from around Honey, pecking a kiss on the side of his skull.  
"C'mere, Blue." They hold out a hand. He's still not looking at them. They wait, (unsure). After a moment or two, he takes it. They drag him (gently) out to the living room. Color remains burnt into his face, though it's lighter.  
They sigh, head lowering.   
"Sorry, Blue. Didn' mean ta make ya uncomfortable." He huffs.  
"I'm more worried about Papyrus! He's mortified!!" They puff quietly, looking off to the side.  
"Oh, he likes it," they mutter.  
"Ex _cuse_ me?!" He asks, sounding somewhat outraged and stepping forward. They're almost intimidated, but raise their eyebrows.  
"Honey knows that any time he asks me to stop, I will. _In_ the bedroom, or _out_ of it. But, hell, he started it. If he doesn't want me _finishing_ a game, he shouldn't bring it to the table in the first place!" They realize they've gotten entirely off-track, and cover their face with one hand, irked with themself.  
"Ugh. Sorry, Blue. Defensiveness. Not the point. No, uhm..." They exhale, trying to regain some semblance of balance. They peek at him between two fingers.  
"Sorry, Blue. I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable - well, not _actually_ uncomfortable - and I'll try not to let it happen again. Deal?" He makes a suspicious face.  
"What's _my_ end of the bargain?" They blink. His end...?  
Not being pissed at them, they suppose. They shrug, somewhat helplessly.  
"Help me make sure Honey's alright? You might be right, and maybe he doesn't want to see my mug right now." Blue nods, suddenly... _determined_ might be the best word for his expression.  
"Right!" He quickmarches off to the kitchen. They follow at a less, er, military pace.  
Honey is on the table.  
....strategically ruffled.  
_Dammit, Honey_.  
Blue throws up his hands and walks back out of the kitchen.


	17. 11/12/16 - How to raise a shadow child

It occurs to them that what they want - what they really, really want...  
...  
...is to have all of the people they love in one place.   
Okay, maybe not _all_ of them, but. A good number.  
They've been isolating themself (because it's habit, by this point), barely interacting unless they have to - usually for a case, but once in a while visiting...Honey, mostly. Or Big Sans, to sleep. (He's soft, and large, and comfortable. )  
...It would probably be selfish.  
...they really don't care.  
They need to go see their kids, or...just.. _something_. They're in a rut. They're only seeing the _bad_ things, so often. That isn't a good way to live.   
Focusing on romance? That isn't a good way to live. There are a lot of things they're doing wrong.   
First: They need to find out what Honey needs. Going directly to a shadow is as likely to get them betrayed as not. A better idea would be to find contact through a monster, and they think they know just the one.  
_  
"Hello, Gerson."   
"Bwahaha! Guess word gets around, huh?" They can't help half-smiling back at him.  
"Yes, I suppose it does. I'm coming to you in the hope you can direct me to someone." He seems interested, humming and stroking his beard.  
"And what would I get for that, whippersnapper?" He may or not be joking; they can't tell. Their smile reaches their eyes.  
"What do you need? I have many talents." Protection, they are well aware he does _not_ need.   
Shopkeepers are unable to be harmed, after all.   
He laughs again, this time with a bit of warmth to it.   
"From one neighbor to another, eh?" Their head tilts as their eyes twinkle.  
"You could say that." Depending on the task, they'd help him anyway for free - depending how boring or arduous it'd be.   
His eyes glint consideringly, though not malevolently. He nods slowly as he thinks.  
"Who do you need to get in touch with, youngin?" One side of their mouth curls up.  
"A shadow. One who is knowledgeable and will not lie. Preferably some sort of physician. I have a...issue." He scans them up and down, briefly.  
"What kind of 'issue' would that be?" His gaze is sharp, though not menacing.  
"My mate is pregnant," they state bluntly.  
"You want to abort." They shake their head, eyebrows lowering. They frown, slightly.  
"Not in the least. I don't think I'm ready for the responsibility, but I got him pregnant nonetheless. The fact that I didn't know it was _possible_ does not excuse the fact that first I did not _check_  - I took a risk, however small I deemed it to be, and now I reap the rewards.   
No, my reason for wishing to consult a physician is...for the health of the child. I am not sure _what_ , exactly, they need. Or what to expect. Or if my mate behaving erratically is _normal_. I wasn't raised shadow, you see." Their mouth presses into a line.  
He seems to be considering. After a few moments he speaks.  
"That might be a bit tough." They nod.  
"That is why I bring the request to you. You're old, bluntly put; I figured if someone would know, it'd be you." He laughs his peculiar laugh, and they raise a hand to hide a smile at it.   
"Well! That's certainly one way to ask fer a favor. I can point you to one for free: Grillby, of Grillby's. It's not common knowledge, but he knows quite a bit about the species, Asena knows why!" He barks out another chortle.  
They bow slightly, smiling.   
"Thank you. How may I repay you?" He waves a hand.  
"It's on the house. Though, if ya wouldn't mind slippin _this_ under the Door," he slides a piece of paper across the counter,  
"I would be much obliged, beansprout. Don't go readin it now." Their head tilts.  
"I wouldn't worry about that. I'm blind." Their mouth curves up, and he guffaws, leaning forward on his elbows. They take the paper.  
"You see pretty well for a blind person!" They smile mysteriously.  
"I presume you mean the door to the Ruins?" He nods.  
"What other Door is there?" They nod, in agreement, then in thanks.  
"My thanks. You will have my business in the future, should I need anything. Your service is exemplary. I like your laugh, by the way." They compliment honestly, then tilt their head and turn to leave.  
"Ey! Whippersnapper!" They look over their shoulder.  
"Watch out for the shadows! Wa ha ha ha ha!" They snort, before turning the corner and reappearing somewhere colder.  
They approach the door with a sigh, crouching in the snow to brush away some of it from the crack. The light powder sticks to their fingers. They note the presence zooming back and forth behind them, chuckle.  
"Hello, cousin. You'll want to find easier prey. I'm not in a _merciful_ mood today." They are, actually, in _quite_ a good mood, but they don't want to play right now. They're on business.   
The zooming stops, and they're distinctly aware of being watched from behind a tree. Sigh and slip the letter under the door, brushing their fingers off on their pants, before standing and turning.  
They scan the area, inhale, exhale.  
Do they _care_ that this person know they can teleport...? They probably already do. The real question is whether they care about sticking around to see if they need aid.  
Sigh, quietly.  
"Hey, kid. You good?" A young shadow steps out from behind the tree, moulded in the image of a human child, almost. They open their mouth uncertainly at Other, not in a threatening way despite the fact that their considerable teeth are bared.   
Other's head tilts.  
"You need somethin, sweetheart?" A blink later, and they're in front of Other, who watches them dispassionately.  
"I'm not looking for an apprentice." Their head tilts. Other sighs.  
"Nor am I interested in playing with you. Pretty sure you're not even a kid," they murmur. They blip to outside of Grillby's.  
Linger outside the door, considering. What sort of reception will they be facing? It's about a fifty-fifty on whether Grillby bars entry for shadows on principle. If he does, it'll be a little harder to get the information they need - but convincing him of their innocence has always been easier than doing the same with Sans, so.  
They're confident it won't be too much of an issue. They'll need to be discrete about what they want to talk to him about, however - Gerson said it wasn't common knowledge, and that could be at his preference. Best be cautious.   
Exhaling once, they push open the door quietly. Bells tinkle overhead, and they blink, looking up. Huh.   
A swift-moving presence prevents them from moving farther into the room. They don't recognize the 'scent' - it isn't Grillby. It _could_ be a child of his, possibly, but they aren't sure - they seem to be some combination of elemental and shadow, however, if Other had to guess.  
The bar is relatively empty. The usual relaxed atmosphere is somewhat tense.  
They turn their attention back to the - male, they think - person bracing themself in front of them.  
".....I didn't come here for trouble. I came for information. I can go elsewhere, if it's that much of a problem." Their head tilts as they speak, mildly curious as to what prompted such a strong (and strange) reaction.  
Mildly surprised, muted popping.   
Their head tilts the other way.  
"I have no quarrel with you, cousin. Nor with your father. I simply come to ask for advice. Also," they reach out one hand to brush at the other's flames,  
"I didn't know my uncle had had a child. I suppose I'm a bit late to the party, but welcome to the world, cousin." Their smile is wry. Their cousin is quite possibly older than they are.  
The flames of the other brighten, more colorful.  
His head turns as he crackles (privately) at Grillby. There's a nod from the bartender, and the younger elemental steps aside.  
 _What do you want?_  
They walk forward almost slowly to avoid startling anyone, speaking in the meanwhile.  
"I've had warmer welcomes. I did get the relation right, didn't I? It can be a bit hard to tell with mixed-species. No offense," as there's a flare of indignation from the younger.  
"I'm one myself. I simply haven't the best eyesight," they bob their head in politely apologetic explanation, and the other crackles slightly as though muttering, but seems to let it go.  
They sigh, propping their head up with one hand on the counter.  
 _So. Uncle. Mind telling me what the hell I'm supposed to do with a pregnant mate?_  He stops polishing the cup momentarily.  
They nod, rolling their eyes.  
"Right, right, I know, right. I should know this by now, huh? Except - I was raised human. It's a little different. For one thing, I didn't think I'd _ever_ be able to get someone pregnant. Don't exactly have the parts for it, naturally, you see," they make a sweeping gesture.  
Grillby is stoic, though maybe 'stiff' is a better descriptor.  
... _Uncle?_ They sigh.  
"Ah. Well. I figured you deserve to know. Lila had me." Less than half a beat.  
"Well, actually, Lila had somebody who had somebody who probably had somebody who had somebody however many times, that had me. But, y'know. That's a lot of _greats_ , and it gets a bit cumbersome. I just call her my aunt, because she's _definitely_ not like any grandmother I ever met," their eyes roll.  
Grillby nods, rubbing the cloth against glass slowly. He seems to agree. They wave a hand, eyes flitting off to the side.  
"So. Y'know. I could've just _not_ mentioned it, but I figured I'd slip up at some point, and, honestly, it's easier to just explain outright." They want to rest their forehead against the counter and take a nap, but now's not the time. Also, they kind of doubt he even believes them.  
They chortle slightly with a smal shrug, not making eye contact.  
"So, anyway. Sorry to make you have _the Talk_ twice, but my mate is pregnant and I need to know how to care for him." Their eyes meet the approximate location of Grillby's.  
"He's acting strangely - very instinctually, more aggresive than...well, himself - and he's been eating raw meat, which he _hates_. I mean, seriously, he's not very happy about that. What _I_ need to know is...well, what do I need to know?" They shrug helplessly.  
"How often does he need meat? The instincts were really strong for the first few days, but they aren't as helpful now, and, honestly, I'd like to _know_ what I need to be doing to make sure he and the baby are healthy." They scratch their face, eyes off to the side.  
"He's been really defensive. Is there a way to baby-proof the house? What are baby shadows _like?_ What the hell are _baby shadow monster hybrids_ like? I mean, I'm part human, so that throws in another screwy measure, but.." They exhale.   
Grillby seems to be chuckling slightly. They can't understand him as well as they usually can - they've been on the elemental 'channel', they realize. He's not _just_ , they don't think, he's _both_ , isn't he, so wouldn't it make sense-  
 _It sounds as though you have a handful_. His tone is amused. His colors are much _darker_ than they're familiar with, the shadow covering the flame. They exhale.  
"Yeah," they've given up their battle with gravity.  
"Guess I do." He chuckles again. Seems to be considering something.  
 _Shadow children are quite easy to handle, in comparison to monsters. In the beginning, they are frequently what are referred to as Shells. They have physicality, and bare consciousness, but little personality or feeling to them. This is normal, and will pass as they grow older and accumulate awareness and sense of self._  
They take this in, then nod-hum to show they're listening.  
 _Is your mate a monster?_ They lift their head, light returning to their eyes. A small, tired smile raises their mouth.  
"Yes. His name is Papyrus. He's very sweet..." They exhale, eyes fond and distant. They flit back to the bartender.  
"Different Papyrus than you know."  
 _Naturally_. Why does he sound sarcastic? They aren't sure how to respond to that, and their eyes narrow.  
"No, really. Different Papyrus. Quite similar to the one you know, but. Y'know. Different world." He registers as surprised. They huff, lay their head back down.  
"I won't bother convincing you; you'll either believe me or you won't, and it doesn't affect me either way, honestly. Ask Sans about the multiverse theory, if you don't already know it. I think of it as a forest, personally..." They lift their head, rub at one eye.  
"But. Apologies. As you may be able to see, I'm a bit tired. Please, dispense more useful informaton, if you would; this is all greatly helpful." He nods.  
 _Make sure they eat vegetables. The child will not want to, but they are necessary._  
"Physical, or monster food?"  
 _Either. They will require some amount of physical food to maintain their form, however; it won't be a large amount, unless they're constantly undergoing damage, but they will likely crave meat. It's quite normal for them to eat fresh, but inform them that small animals and other children are not prey. That is very important._  
They nod seriously in response.   
 _Socialization is a key part of the development of the child, Shell or not; if they are a Shell, it's doubly important for them to accumulate emotional energy so as to form their own consciousness. Consequently, caution should be taken in what emotions they are exposed to._  
 _Some are not born Shells, because they have enough energy accumulated when they are born._  
"How long is the pregnancy?"  
 _That depends upon the carrier, and how quickly the child develops. The fastest I have heard of a healthy child being delivered is approximately a month; it normally takes about four._  
 _They will not be loud children; it isn't in a shadow's instincts. You will have to teach them to speak aloud instead of mentally, and to sing and yell and scream, if it is safe to do so in your world._  
 _It won't come naturally to them._  
Other continues nodding, raptly listening.  
 _Broods are not uncommon. I am under the impression you are only having the one?_  They nod. He flickers in consideration.  
 _Interaction with other children - specifically, others of their species and age - is also important. Consider having another, perhaps._  They laugh a little, almost hysterically.  
"Yeah, uh, _no_ , I don't think Honey is enjoying _this_ pregnancy."  
His eyebrows, such as they are, raise.  
"Nickname. When you go to a lot of places, and a lot of people have the same name...well, Other isn't my birth name. It's a habit to call him Honey, though. 'Sides, it suits him." Their expression is a bit dazed. They blink and shake their head to snap themself out of it.  
"Anyway. Yeah, no. He's, uh, _really_ not enjoying the whole 'eat raw meat' thing." Grillby nods understandingly.  
"And when it gets to the point where it can be cooked-"  
 _It can't. It always has to be fresh.  
_ They blink. That's both a relief and not.  
"But what about butchering it?" He shakes his head.  
 _It's not the same. Instinctually, they will not be sated -_ he _will not be sated - unless it is from the source. Carved meat, or cooked, will not do.  
_...Honey is really not going to enjoy this.   
 _Also, it would be easy enough to impregnate him with a second child while he carries the first.  
_ They're shocked into not knowing how to respond to that.   
On the one hand, the thought of him carrying their pups, plural, is quite appealling on a very base level. On the other, it just _seems like a bad idea_. For one thing, they don't know what to do with the _first_ child.  
How would they even take care of a second?  
...But they really want a daughter.  
They don't know where that thought comes from; they've _had_ a daughter. They have both Katy and Katydid, though they aren't so much _female_ as _neutral and sometimes female_. Still; they fulfill that..sort of...standard...they think?  
(They have to ask what Katy's gender is, because they never got around to having a proper conversation with them about it, and they don't _quite_ know what it is?)   
Still. It's an odd thought, though they remember their own mother telling them all mothers want a daughter.  
It just seems.... _strange_. They can't understand _why_  they would want such a thing - the gender of your child does not overshadow _who they are_ , not in the least - and...they don't trust it.  
"...I don't think that's a good idea. Taking care of one child will be difficult enough." He inclines his head neutrally.  
The door tinkles as someone enters. Both of them tense for a moment, before the fireman sighs.  
 _Sans is discrete._  
They turn (not that it makes a difference) to 'look' at him. Tilt their head in greeting.  
"hey, grillbz. newcomer?" His tone is friendly, but almost....warning?  
Grillby doesn't respond, so they do.  
"I won't be here long. Don't worry; my _bark_ -" they allow a pattern to ripple across their skin  
"-is worse than my _bite_ ," and they flash sharp black teeth before dismissing them.   
His hackles are up, and they roll their eyes.  
"Oh, hush. I know the rules. No fighting in the bar. Besides, why would I _want_ to? Monster meat is useless unless you eat it while they're still alive," they sigh out.   
"And I'm not much for eating sentients." He's eyeing them oddly, but slowly approaching anyway. They pat the stool beside them, flash him a smile with human teeth.  
"Come. Sit. Make yourself at home. I won't bite. Unless you _want_ me to, of course," they wink flirtily. For some reason, this seems to relax him.  
He glances at Grillbz, who nods. The remaining tension drains away.  
"heh. guess you're alright, kid." They close one eye to squint at him.  
"Ain't a _kid_. Having my own. Anyway." They turn back to the fire, while Sans sits in a state of surprise,  
"How, exactly, am I supposed to...? How can I find playmates for them? I don't trust most shadows as far as I can throw them." He crackles, considering.  
 _A wise decision. One of my daughters is due soon; she may be interested in such an arrangement_. They perk.  
"Really? I thought I'd have to start a town. And _boy_ , that's more work than I want." He crackles faintly, as though in considering surprise.  
 _You are strong enough to start a town?_ They jab a thumb at Sans.  
"I'm strong enough that I could kill _him_ without too much fuss. Not that I _would_ , mind you; he seems like a nice enough fellow. And I'm talking about _with_ the Blasters and bones and teleporting."   
Once again, they've caused a freeze. It doesn't concern them overmuch; they cover a jaw-stretching yawn with one hand.  
"'Course, my interpersonal relations aren't too good. I don't like beating around the bush, and honestly, I haven't got much patience, so." They shrug, eyes rolling off to the side.  
"While I _could_ protect a town like that, I don't think I'd be the best person to _run_ it. And that's how it works, right? The strongest person is in charge? Or, well. Whoever wins the fight - the cleverest, or strongest, or what-have-you."   
"....you gonna back that up, _buddy?_ " They sigh quietly, eyes half-lidded with something like disinterest.  
"Am I going to have to?"  
 _No fighting in the bar_ , Grillby reminds them both. Other nods.  
"Yeah, I know, Uncle. I got it." They hold out a hand to Sans, smiling honestly.  
"You wanna go play? We can rough-house for a bit." Their manner is friendly, and not in a vicious way - a romp with Sans would probably be a bit fun. He considers, impassive, before shaking his head.  
"...nah. i'll take your word on it." His voice is quiet. Their head tilts to the side as they frown, as something occurs to them. They turn their face to Grillby for a moment.  
"Hey, Unc, excuse us for a moment?" They ask. He assents with a curious flicker.  
They hold out a hand to Sans again, smiling softly.  
"C'mere, brother. Wanna have a talk with you." His eyesockets narrow at the word 'brother', but he takes their hand anyway.  
They blip the both of them out to his sentry station, release his hand and jump up on the counter.  
"Hope you don't mind." He shakes his head, gaze not leaving them.  
"I would never hurt Papyrus. He'd have to do something pretty bad for me to even get cross with him, which, let's face it, he _wouldn't_." They shrug.  
"I work with genocidal children for a living. I think I have a pretty good tolerance, but...that's just me. I'unno. Just." They shake their head, because the words aren't saying what they mean.  
"What I'm saying is, you don't have to worry about me hurting you or your brother. Or anyone else, really, unless they threaten me or someone I care about. Or, y'know. I see something that pisses me off." They flip a hand. The last does not reassure him.  
"Honor-code and all that." That does.   
Their gaze returns to him.  
"We take that very seriously, you know." He nods, slowly. They continue.  
"So, when I say- honestly, and without compunction - that there are very few circumstances where I would consider harming your brother - or you, for that matter, despite the fact that you are _very_ dangerous to me - you can trust that I'm telling the truth."  
He finally seems reassured. They smile, a little. Hold out their hand again.  
"Now. I'm not finished asking Grillby about how the fuck to raise a shadow kid, which has become a pressing issue, considering that I've got one back home in my mate's belly. You want a lift back?" He shakes his head.  
"nah. my break's over, pal." Their head tilts.  
"Well, bye then. I expect you might be seeing me again, unfortunately." They smile sympathetically.  
"Sorry about that. But my kid and mate come before your comfort." Tilt their head at him, blip back to their stool.  
Their uncle is startled, halfway to attacking, before he stops himself.  
 _Don't do that._ They dip their head apologetically.  
"Sorry." Their fingers thrum against the counter quietly, as they consider what questions haven't been answered.  
"...How long is Honey gonna be. Y'know. Feral, basically? Is it gonna get...easier for him to control? I remember that's how it was for me, at least." Their head ducks as they scratch at their cheek, mouth twisted.  
 _It varies. The instincts will most likely remain strong, but control should grow easier with practice._ They nod, running this new information over. It's what they suspected, but it's nice to... _know_. Exhale, rest their head on one hand again.  
"Babyproofing the house? And are predators going to come looking for my child?" Their eyes glint, because while they're theoretically able to deal with any threat, the _thought_ of there _being_ a threat to their unborn child or mate makes their stomach twist and hackles rise.  
His head shakes.  
 _If they do, it will be to congratulate you. Children are untouchable. Mates_...he hesitates.  
 _They are off-limits while pregnant, but not everyone considers them to be above use as a pressure point._  Their upper lip draws away from their canine in distaste. He nods.  
 _Claiming him, however, will serve as protection. They'll have to go through you first._ Other nods.  
...Wait. You can mate someone _without_ claiming them? That just seems a bit odd.  
What would be the point? They'd be in so much danger.  
He laughs flickeringly.  
 _Not all have the same depth of honor, but that is a fairly well-ingrained example._  
....They know there's a question they want to ask, but can't remember it.  
...In any case, they're antsy to see Honey again. It's been...a while, from their perspective.  
They're shifting in their seat.  
They hear Grillby laugh.  
 _Go to your mate. Tell him what you've learned_.  
 _Mostly that I want him to carry my brood_ , they don't say. Nod relievedly, thankfully, puffing the air out of their cheeks.  
Make 'eye contact'.  
"Thank you, Uncle." They incline their head gratefully, smile slightly.  
"If there's something you need..." He nods in a way that indicates he may take them up on it at some point. Their mouth tugs up.  
"I'll have to come by and meet your daughter sometime. Bring Honey, maybe. If that's alright." They haven't forgotten their cousin in the back, but they are wondering why he hasn't made a peep.   
Grillby assents graciously, and they smile at him again, gently.  
"Thanks, Unc." They lean over the bar, but they're much too short. They huff-snort.   
Distinctly amused, he leans over, and they plant a kiss on his cheek with a 'mwah!', before pulling back.  
Their mouth quirks on one side.  
"Seeya soon. What's your daughter's name, by the way?"   
 _Inverna_. It's a strong name; she must be one hell of a woman. They nod.  
"I'm Other, if I haven't already introduced myself. Wait, what am I saying, of course I have." He raises an eyebrow, and it doesn't take a genius to understand.  
They bob their head apologetically.  
"Sorry, Unc, but...I don't share my name with just anyone. And by that, I mean I don't share it with _anyone_. My mate only learned after we'd been together..." They puff out their cheeks, considering.  
"Well, probably years. It's hard to tell when you're all over the place, linearly." His flames waver with some emotion they don't recognize. They nod.  
"Yeah, really. Bit hard to explain, though. 'Specially when I'm tired. Tell you about it later, if you want." They shrug. Turn to the other (much darker) elemental.  
"So. Who's my cousin?" A crackling (near-black) voice answers them. They can smell something...tempting, but dangerous. They snort at that.  
 _Are you talking to me?  
_ "Of you, yes. I was beginning to wonder if you were mute." They stick out their tongue childishly.  
"But, well, no, sorry. I figured you had some aversion to speaking. Or had left. Or didn't want to be disturbed. Uh, sorry." They rub the back of their neck apologetically.  
He seems assuaged by this, if he had been offended in the first place, as well as a little surprised.  
 _Apology accepted. I'm Arsonic._ It takes them a moment, then they double over laughing. Whoever named _this_ cousin had one hell of a sense of humor. He flickers with amusement.  
 _Yes, I'm aware._  They would clap him on the shoulder, but they have no idea if he's even on the same side of the room as them. They shake their head ruefully.  
"I really should be going. It was quite pleasant meeting you all - and thank you so, so much for the advice; it will be invaluable, and I hope you don't mind me returning with questions?" They'd turned partway back to Grillby. He shakes his head to indicate that it won't be a problem.  
" - but I really should be getting back to my mate." They glance down, smiling slightly.  
Assent from the other parties present.  
"Anyway, ta." They dip in a sort of cursty-bob without a dress or girliness, and vanish.  
They don't quite _trust_ this Grillby, but they don't _distrust_ him, either.  
  
Honey is on them before they have a chance to locate where he is in the room.  
"Whoa, hey, hi. Somebody missed me. How long I been gone?" They ask.  
"couple hours," as he smells them. They can't help but wonder if he's using _scent_ or the more, uh. _Their_ version of smelling.  
Not too important right now. They stroke down the back of his skull.  
"Want me to come back? I can go to then." Shakes his head.  
"no. you're here now. don't leave. i need you." The last sentence stokes something unhealthily like ego; they swallow it down.  
His arms are around their waist like a vise, clearly unwilling to let go. They're entirely okay with that. They rub down the back of his head.  
"You want anything? Need meat? Water? Food?"  
" _stay_ ," he growls.  
"Okay, I can do that," placatingly, higher-pitched than normal. Hesitate, lean down to nuzzle him.   
....They shouldn't bring it up with him. It's selfish, for one, and for another, his instincts (which aren't even _his_ , right now) would probably answer for him.  
No, if they want to ask, it'll have to be from before he got pregnant. He'll _remember_ , of course (maybe? They're still getting the hang of the distinction between honest time travel and rolling back) but he'd be able to make the decision for himself.   
...Why do they feel mild _contempt?  
_ It takes a moment for the answer to sink in. It's not _contempt_ , but disappointment. He's allowing his instincts to overrun him, and they thought more of him than that. Probably an unfair thought - they remember how overpowering their own were.   
His are likely as strong, if not worse, and he's barely had time to deal with them on top of the _added_ stress of having a baby and how they're going to provide for it and oh goodness do they have the _money_ for that do they even have the _space_  what if they _don't_ well Other is working at Grillby's, anyways, so they'll just work _more_ there but-.   
Maybe having a brood isn't such a good idea; if providing financially for _one_ baby is difficult, imagine doing it for _six_. Or seven or eight or nine. _Nine_. Imagine that; it would be _insane_. No, the most would be six, seven at a stretch. Any more wouldn't be healthy, not at the same time. Not for Honey.   
"Where are we?" They murmur, because they honestly can't tell.  
"bedroom," he responds, shifting his head to bury it between their neck and shoulder and _ah, yes_ , there are the instincts _protectcherishnourish_. _Nourish_. That's a new one. Applicable, they suppose. It's a surge of fondness that rushes over them.  
They don't get that with many people.  
"On the bed?"  
"mm," he replies affirmatively, nuzzling against their neck softly, and _god dammit, Honey_. They inhale, exhale.  
"We're gonna have to talk about baby stuff in the morning. I don't think it's, uh, a good time right now, but I went to Grillby - don't ask; in some worlds he's part shadow. The one I went to, I think he was - he definitely had a shadow _mate_. Anyway, gonna set up playdates with the kid of his daughter, once ours are born-" his arms tighten around them.  
" _ours_." It's a question and a wish all in one.  
They try to look down, and fail for the obvious reason.  
"Honey?" Near-cautiously inquisitive.  
"..we're only having the one, right?" He sounds worn-out all of a sudden. They can't help the (slightly dark) laugh that escapes.  
"Unless you want more." Dammit. Dammitdammitdammit. They stroke the back of his skull to distract him.  
"But that's not something I'd talk to _you_ about. Well, not _now_ you. I'd have to go back and ask pre-pregnant you..." They hum.  
"It'd have to be pretty vague, though, I guess, to not be a leading question. Predestination and all that? I don't want to mess things up. Time travel is tricky. Timelines splitting into different branches is _one_ thing, but it gets _absurd_ after a while, so I try to avoid it. Anyway, sorry, I'm babbling." He shakes his head against them, a silent _I don't mind_.   
They continue stroking.  
"But. Well. Anyway." They make to lean down and press a kiss to his skull, but that would be quite difficult at this angle, and he isn't going to remove his arms. They sigh.  
"I'm about for bed. You?" He nods, though doesn't seem to care one way or another. They frown, fingers still moving.   
"...We're gonna have to strengthen the bond." His head shoots up, away, to stare them in the eyes. They frown back slightly at him consideringly.  
"If it causes you this much distress when I leave, I mean. Not that we have to-"  
" _yes_ ," it's a breath. They blink.  
"Well. Okay then." They want to kiss him on the forehead again. They hate seeming so cavalier about this. They're just _tired_.  
They pull him closer, nuzzle.  
" _Mine_ ," they sigh.  
" _yours_ ," he exhales. A minute pause, because he surprised them, before they pull his (loosened) arm from around their waist, kiss the palm of it with closed eyes. Lean back just enough for there to be space, place his hand over their heart, which is beating steadily, over their SOUL, unsummoned but _there_ , all the same, pulled just present enough to feel.  
" _Yours_ ," they promise.  
His eyes lid. His fingers curl a little, hand presses against their sternum.  
" _mine_ ," he replies almost raspily. They remember the question.  
"Oh, shoot." Aaaaand they just ruined the moment. He blinks at them, snapped out of it momentarily. They press their lips together apologetically, kiss his forehead now that they can reach it.  
"I just remembered the question I wanted to ask Grillby. About whether smoking is bad for the baby." His head tilts.  
"won't be smoking anyway, just in case." They nod, somewhat disappointed/apologetic that he should have to give up something (because of their mistake).  
They exhale, tired. A few moments pass.  
 _Sleep? Or is it not late enough for you? Here, I mean. I don't mean to imply that_ \- he covers their mouth gently, amusedly, with one hand. They smirk, but their eyelids are drooping.  
"yeah. sleep sounds good." He lets out a jaw-cracking yawn that has them impressed, and copying it. He lays the two of them down, arms still around their waist from the front, face buried in their neck, and they contemplate that this is true happiness as they stroke their mate's back.  
They can't help but feel something's wrong, somewhere, but it always is.   
They'll deal with it in the morning.


	18. 12/12/16 - Particular flavors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Other contemplates the taste of different emotions.

Other contemplates the taste of different emotions.  
Sadness, of course, is their favorite. There are so many _varieties_  - loss, _regret_ , melancholy, just to name a _few_  - and each has their own unique _flavor_. Sadness has a certain _depth_ to it, intrinsically, that makes it so enjoyable.  
 _Fear_. Fear is delicious, naturally, but of course there are different types of that, too. There are different types of everything. It also depends on their _mood_  - but simple, straight terror tastes stale, after a while. It has to be mixed - with _betrayal_ , with _sorrow_ is the _best_  - to give it _layering_.   
Hope. Kindness. Joy.  
There's a purity to them that's....refreshing, they suppose. But _hope_ is fragile, and they don't like the taste of it crushed. Kindness, twisted, is bitter. Joy bursts so intensely, but fades. But, _oh_ , before it fades it's like fireworks in a night sky - bright, and encompassing, not _burning_ but _glowing_ , and closer than the moon even when it seems to _pop_.  
  
Kindness is a light green, the exact shade of Jump's SOUL, and it's _beautiful_ , and it's rare for it to be twisted, but is so often stepped on or ruined like an insect with wings pulled of by a particularly malevolent child. Despite this, it's rather enjoyable. It's _filling_ , in a way that fear and sorrow are not - the difference between lettuce and steak, they suppose.   
Hope...  
Now, hope is a tricky one. They avoid it on general principle, but they imagine it would be quite filling, until it shattered. No; kindness is as close as they'll get, usually, to this delicate feeling. _Hope_ is too dangerous for them, the kind of emotion that breaks into shards, piercing and sharp, destroying from the inside out.   
Not unusual for an emotion, anyway.


End file.
